


Path to Darkness

by Makkoska



Category: Naruto
Genre: A bit of torture, Akatsuki - Freeform, Flashbacks, Hidan "taking care" or Kakuzu, Kakuzu background story, Kakuzu's threads, M/M, Some angst, Yaoi, coarse language, some glimpses of old Konoha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-16
Updated: 2013-01-16
Packaged: 2017-11-18 19:21:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 29,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/564412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Makkoska/pseuds/Makkoska
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hidan’s resemblance to someone important in his past makes Kakuzu act recklessly and he suffers an accident. The priest has to face the consequences, although he doesn’t find them that terrible… A KakuHida fic, with flashbacks to Kakuzu’s history.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Odd Flashes of Memories

**Author's Note:**

> I thought I won’t be writing another multi-chaptered KakuHida fic, but obviously I was wrong. I blame Derperuss, who told me the base idea for this story, although I twisted and turned and truly abused it. Hope you will still like it!
> 
> I also blame the continuous and frustrating lack of Kakuzu background stories in the series, when we get to know more about characters like Pakura of the Scorch Release (surely awaited by masses), so I felt I have to make my own version.  
> This is massively a WIP, but I felt that if I won’t start posting I might just abandon it, and I worked too much on it for that already

They moved in almost complete darkness. Heavy rainclouds and thick canopy obscured even the dim twinkle of stars. The night was their ally, covering their presence at this hostile land. Soon they would see the lights of the village and the mission would start at last.  
  
Kakuzu felt his pulse speed up in anticipation, though he wasn’t afraid – if anyone could carry out this quest, it was them. They were strong. They were the best, the prodigy of their village. They were prepared.   
  
When he glimpsed[ Konohagakure](http://naruto.wikia.com/wiki/Konohagakure) in the valley below he raised his arm and the other two immediately came to a halt. There was no need for any last-minute tactical discussion – they had already gone through all that, he just wanted to take a few minutes break before venturing into enemy territory.  
  
He turned back to his teammates. The three of them knew each other very well. Ten years or even more passed since they had started their training as a shinobi together and since then he had hardly fought any battle without the others’ aid. They were the perfect team – Kakuzu with his powerful hand-to-hand combat skills, Kokoro with his supreme genjutsu abilities and Shiro with his perfected healing techniques. Young as they all were, barely in their early twenties, Kakuzu thought that together they were unstoppable.  
  
With Kokoro they were practically like brothers, having known each other since childhood and by now knowing each other’s thoughts most of the times. And with Shiro… they were even more than that.  He let his eyes linger on the slender form a bit longer than it was truly advisable in their current situation. Feeling his gaze, the silver-haired man raised his uniquely coloured eyes and smiled at him. Kakuzu’s heart started to beat just a bit faster and it had nothing to do with the upcoming fight. It was strange, the way a simple smile could make him feel. They had known each other _forever_ , but since they had become lovers watching Shiro was something he could never be tired of.  
  
Falling for your teammate was not something the elders encouraged – someone who was considered to be one the strongest ninja of their village, like Kakuzu,  was expected not to be distracted by such emotions. Same gender relationships were frowned upon anyway, so they have kept it in secret as much as they could. They didn’t manage to fool Kokoro at all of course, but no one else suspected anything.  
  
After this mission they might be able to announce their bond, Kakuzu thought suddenly. Upon completion they would surely be celebrated as the heroes of the village and a hero could get away with a lot of things. And the assassination of Hashirama Senju was certainly not something an ordinary trio of shinobi could have carried out.  
  
Signalling for the others to get moving they descended into the Village Hidden in the Leaves. Silent, quick and deadly like a striking snake. Arrogant in their youth enough to think they could win, they rushed ahead to meet their doom.

/*/*/*/

 

 

Kakuzu rubbed tiredly and rather furiously the bridge of his nose. Of all the time and place to remember such a thing… He looked sideways to his current partner and was overcome with the sudden urge to strangle him. The feeling was nothing new, but for once the idiotic zealot didn’t commit anything to warrant his rage. To the contrary, he was doing what he was told.  
  
They were hiding behind a crumbling stone wall, waiting for their target to appear. Hidan managed to keep his mouth shut this time, though he was constantly shifting, tapping his foot, fidgeting, unable to stay completely still. Feeling his partner’s gaze on him he turned his head and raised an eyebrow, conveying “What the fuck are you looking at?” pretty much without words.  
  
Kakuzu shifted his attention from him, staring once again at the road through the cracks of the wall. In truth, he knew why Hidan’s presence indicated these memories, but it didn’t make it and less infuriating. All those had happened seventy years ago after all – normally he could hardly recall the events any longer, not in detail at any rate.  
  
Yet since his misfortunate partnership with the priest he was subject to an occasional dream. Sometimes his mind wandered back to his early years even when he was awake, like it happened now. To say it frustrated the hell out of him would be an understatement.  
  
It was, it _had to be_ just these curious physical similarities the priest shared with Shiro. The light hair, the fair skin, the distinctive violet eyes he had only ever seen these two people have. But the resemblances ended there. Where his lover had been quiet, compassionate and smart, Hidan was loud, cruel and idiotic.  
  
Kakuzu hadn’t been able to really recall Shiro’s face since countless decades. He accepted that, even welcomed it. The less memories he kept of his past the easier it was to live in the present. He wasn’t the same person anyway, with his distorted body and soul. Nostalgia never earned anyone a Rio, just made you vulnerable.  
  
However since the priest was forced on him, whenever he thought about his long dead lover he pictured him exactly like Hidan. It was one thing that made him despise the bloody moron even more. Although it was probably also the reason why he had never smashed that infuriating grin from the other’s face once and for all, supposed immortality be damned...  
  
The man they had been waiting for had finally appeared and Kakuzu threw himself into the combat with vengeance, ignoring Hidan’s standard cries of “Leave this to me!”  It was over in no time unfortunately, leaving their target dead but still recognisable so the bounty could be collected.  
  
Hidan screamed at him, angered at not having a chance to even drew his blade, let alone complete his miserable ritual and Kakuzu, hardy getting his tension relieved with such an easy fight, let himself be drawn into another futile argument. It ended with Hidan being smashed into a nearby tree, what made the day just slightly more bearable.

/*/*/*/

 

He didn’t know what it was with the old bastard lately, but he was becoming even more introverted and at the same time more volatile than usual and Hidan wouldn’t have thought that possible.  He really wished it would stop – he was more and more frustrated and bored with each passing day.  
  
He had also caught him looking at him strangely in the last couple of weeks and it wasn’t his usual how-could-I-kill-Hidan-once-and-for-all look. Eerily enough he sometimes seemed to look _through_ him, or as if seeing a ghost. Kakuzu just wasn’t someone who spaced out, so he really didn’t know what to make of it. As far as Hidan was concerned, the miser was a sceptic asshole of a killing machine and definitely not someone you caught staring ahead, or at you, with glazed eyes.  
  
He tried to make Kakuzu tell what was bugging him, but with that effect he could have interrogated a rock. In no time it became a bit of an obsession. He kept watching the stitched bastard from the corner of his eyes and when he seemed to enter his brooding session he stepped right into his face and asked what the matter was with him.  
  
This was as safe as poking a sleeping biju in the eye, but Hidan didn’t have anything to fear. He couldn’t be killed after all, and didn’t give a shit about pain. He might whine if Kakuzu did something painful, but it was really just to annoy him.   
  
He didn’t get the old heathen to confess anything though. The most he could achieve was to drag him back to reality, to get his attention again, which was all nice, but didn’t provide any explanation what was going on in Kakuzu’s mind.  
  
Hidan realized he was slightly worried and that made him feel uneasy. He wasn’t someone who gave a shit about how others felt. Still, he couldn’t help to be a bit concerned about his partner and he tried to deal with it in his own way – pestering the other all the time so he didn’t have much chance to brood over whatever he was brooding over. Did he get any thanks for it though? Of course not. Ungrateful asshole.

 

**_TBC…_ **


	2. The Accident

 

 

/*/*/*/  
  
“Kakuzu… Kakuzu!”  
  
He woke to Shiro whispering his name and touching his shoulder lightly. There was an urgency in his voice that made Kakuzu spring up into a crouch from his reclined position immediately, kunai in hand. He looked around, searching for an enemy presence. Finding none, he turned his attention back to the young man kneeling next to his futon.  
  
Shiro seemed nervous, but he didn’t look like he was expecting an attack. Kakuzu lowered his weapon and looked at him questioningly.   
  
“Kokoro-kun said he had something to do and he won’t be back for a while,” he murmured “and I thought that maybe…”  
  
Kakuzu couldn’t help but smile at that. How thoughtful of Kokoro. He pulled Shiro down and rolled on top. The other man sighed softly when he cupped his face and kissed him deeply. He threaded his fingers into soft silvery locks and looked at his lover’s flushed face. He cherished private moments like this - they didn’t have much time for themselves, with all the training, missions and the attention they were generally getting from the village.  
  
Kakuzu wanted to make the best of this unexpected intimacy so hurriedly pushed the robe off his lover’s shoulders. A bolt of arousal shot through his body as Shiro’s hands run down his sides to grasp his hips and when he looked up he saw the violet eyes were also filled with passion.  
  
In the back of his mind he noticed something was wrong. Shouldn’t Shiro’s face be a bit wider, his chin less defined, his eyebrows not so arched? Those startling eyes - they were the right colour, but they burned with a cruel, wicked lust that was both upsetting and exciting. His lover laughed, shrill and insane, showing sharp white teeth and the expression was so off on his usually gentle face that it woke Kakuzu instantly, all five hearts beating fast, furious at Hidan for invading his dream.

/*/*/*/

  
Kakuzu was absentminded whole day, but it wasn’t as if Hidan noticed. He kept talking and talking. Would the masked man cared to listen he could have been an expert on the disciples of Jashinism, the perfect way spare ribs should always be prepared and the details of Yugakure’s degradation into a tourist spot by now.  
  
But he wasn’t listening, focusing his attention on the rough terrain as they climbed through the canyon. A man was hiding up in the mountains, a man with a large bounty on his head. The reward was rich enough to be worth the tedious task of climbing upwards among sharp rocks and edging next to steeply chasms. It was even worth enduring Hidan whining about how he hated mountains, headhunting, Kakuzu, the chilly wind, money, heathens and everything and everyone else he could think of. The difficult journey had the additional benefit that it was _almost_ hardenough to keep his thoughts away from his recurring dreams and odd flashes of memories.  
  
Once they found him, they defeated the target in no time, making the long way up to him ridiculous in comparison. He was hiding in a shallow cave opening from a narrow path with nothing but a deep chasm below. He had nowhere to run, not that he could have run from the Akatsuki pair, as he wasn’t even a shinobi. The fight, if it could be called that at all, was over in a blink of an eye. It was obvious that Hidan couldn’t relieve his bloodlust, so it came as no surprise to Kakuzu when he provoked an argument. Being rather frustrated himself he reacted to the baiting and that was where everything went horribly wrong.  
  
“That’s it,” the priest stepped up to him snarling, scythe in hand “I stopped following you around, doing your shitty private jobs, and boring myself to death. I haven’t even made a fucking sacrifice over a week…”  
  
“Shut up, you cretin,” Kakuzu growled “who asked you to follow me? I’d be the happiest if you stopped coming after me like a stray mutt. Do both of us a favour and get lost.”  
  
“You fucking asshole,” Hidan screamed, swinging his weapon and the masked man had to crouch down to avoid beheading. Springing up a moment later he managed to plant his feet squarely on the middle of the other’s chest. The force of the kick had the zealot staggering back and Kakuzu was after him, faster than the eye could follow.  
  
They were at the edge of the abyss now, but neither paid it much attention, too eager to get the other down. Hidan, if nowhere as powerful as him, was very agile and kept slithering out of Kakuzu’s grip. He even managed to spare breath to laugh mockingly as the older man’s fingers closed just an inch away from his throat.  
  
The next instant the gleeful expression froze on his face.  Hidan’s last step back took him too close to the edge, his heels peering over the brink. For the longest of moments he fought for balance then started to fall backwards into nothingness.  
  
Kakuzu moved without thinking. For a mere second it wasn’t Hidan who he was seeing, but another young man from a different life, tumbling down, the signs of life freezing on his face. In the last moment he managed to grab the priest’s arm and drag him back. However their combined weight was too much for the fragmented rocks and they crumbled. His body acted on its own – there was no way he would have done it consciously.  Lifting the priest up Kakuzu tossed him back to safety even as the ground disappeared beneath his own feet.  
  
It was a long fall, leaving enough time for Kakuzu to realize he did something spectacularly stupid. His chance of surviving such a drop was scarce while it wouldn’t have caused anything permanent to his partner. As the earth rushed up to meet him he swore that if he lived through this he would make Hidan pay.  He felt a flash of blinding agony before the world went blissfully dark.

 

/*/*/*/

  
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Hidan chanted. Taking a short break in his descend he peered down. Kakuzu’s prone body was still a far way below him. “Bloody fucking fuck…”  
  
He started again, refusing to think about how his partner hadn’t moved in the last half an hour and the implications of that. The sodding old bastard… of all the idiot stunts to pull… _What the hell_ was the old son-of-a-bitch thinking? _Why_ on earth did he do something like this? He chased away the thoughts, telling himself firmly that he would wake Kakuzu once he reached him and ask directly.   
  
When he managed to climb low enough so the drop wouldn’t make him spend a long time with recovery he jumped. He landed in a crouch, the impact still sending a sharp bolt of pain up his legs and spine. Ignoring that he rushed up to Kakuzu.  
  
He was lying on his side in foetal position among jagged, sharp rocks. Up close Hidan saw that what he mistook for a large pool of blood was in fact a mass of threads. He was relieved at that first – it meant Kakuzu managed to cushion his fall – before he noticed the pieces of shattered white clay amongst it. The masks.  
  
Fear gripped him as he kneeled down, fingers searching for the other’s pulse.  
  
“You can’t die in such a ridiculous way,” he muttered “bloody old heathen, have you fucking lost your mind…”  
  
He found a heartbeat – singular and weak, but that didn’t matter right now – and he let out a breath he wasn’t aware holding.  
  
“Hey, wake up!” he shook the other none-too gently. He didn’t react so Hidan grabbed his shoulders again, before realizing that maybe he had some broken bones and the shaking wasn’t doing him anything good. He sat back on his heels, running a hand through his slicked-back hair in frustration.  
  
He had no idea how to deal with broken bones and such. His owns mended in no time for years and he never had to take care of anyone else. As Kakuzu was alive, he expected him to wake up and start moving. He waited for hours, growing more and more impatient, but it just didn’t happen.   
  
When the sun started to set, he realized he had no other choice but to move his partner.  
  
With some difficulty he pulled the limp body up into a sitting position. Like this he saw that all four of his masks were shattered, leaving only the uneven row of stitches to decorate the broad back. So he wasn’t mistaken about the heartbeat - the bastard really had only one heart left. Really stupid to land yourself in such a state if you have a Jashin-priest as your partner in crime.  
  
For a long second Hidan contemplated the idea of performing the ritual on Kakuzu. Hadn’t he promised he’d kill him a thousand times already? Still, if he was to finish off the bastard he wanted him to be conscious. Where would be the fun like this?  
  
“You’re one lucky motherfucker, not that you will ever thank me...” he muttered.  
  
Despite his height and bulk, Kakuzu was surprisingly light. Maybe with four of his monster-hearts dead and out of his body he was more or less just an empty shell now. Were the threads all his filling or did he have muscles and flesh and organs as normal people did, Hidan wondered. That thought was so intriguing that the priest almost put him back down to take him away at the seams and check. Still, it wasn’t really the place for it, and if the bastard woke to find Hidan rummaging through his insides he’d surely rip his head off…  
  
Heaving a sigh he draped the prone figure of his partner over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and went to search for a sheltered spot where he could recover.

****

**_TBC…_ **


	3. Into Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe I should have said this at the beginning, but probably it's obvious anyway: this story is set prior to the happenings of Shippuuden. I can say it's an AU, as I have no intention whatsoever to connect it to the Kakuzu & Hidan Arc.

 

/*/*/*/

　

He was dropped face-first to the hard floor. With his hands tied behind his back he couldn’t do anything to lessen the impact. The barely closed wound above his brow opened and blood started to drip into his eyes again. He tried to rise up to his knees, but a hard kick aimed at his kidney had him collapsing. Automatically he rolled up into a ball, trying to protect his insides, but only one more blow came before a calm yet powerful voice stopped his tormentor.  
  
"That will be enough Kenta-san."  
  
"But Hokage-sama, this is only what the worm deserves! Sneaking in, trying to take your life…"  
  
"I said enough. Back down."  
  
Feeling the man taking a step away from him, Kakuzu struggled up into a sitting position. Each and every part of his body ached and he wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and die. But he still had his dignity, even if he lost everything else and he wouldn’t be crawling in the dirt before these bastards from the Leaf.  
  
Sharp pain bit into his side, signalling broken ribs as he straightened his spine. He wanted to stand up, to look them in the eye, but was afraid that he wouldn’t be able to. So he remained sitting, back propped up against the cold stone wall of the cell and settled for titling his head up.  
  
Hashirama Senju stood a few steps away from him, hands resting loosely by his sides. He seemed a bit tired, his long hair tangled. By all appearances he looked like he just woke up from sleep rather than fighting a life-and-death battle with three desperate Takigakure ninjas.  
  
Another Konoha shinobi came in to the cell and the Hokage half turned towards him. He was leaving an opening, but Kakuzu hardly had the strength to sit straight, let alone to try to attack him again.  
  
"The other two?" Senju was asking.  
  
"Dead," the newcomer said with a shake of his head. "That medic nin already passed on by the time we checked, and there was nothing we could do for the other either."  
  
Kakuzu felt bile rise up in his throat. He had to close his eyes to swallow it back. He found it hard to breath and it wasn’t only because of his broken ribs. When the threatening wave of nausea passed he looked up again to meet the deep brown eyes of the Hokage. His supposed target looked at him with something akin to sadness.  
  
"Have him interrogated in the morning," he commanded his subordinates and was gone. Finally alone, save for the guard remaining in front of his cell, Kakuzu allowed himself to slump down next to the wall, resting his head against the floor.  
  
Their village had been sorely misinformed. That was the only explanation he could think of why they sent their team against the Leaf’s Kage. Even taken by surprise, being attacked in his sleep he was far superior to them. He swatted the three of them like flies.  
  
"Fuck," the young man muttered and humourless laugh bubbled up in him. How could they? Haven’t the elders done any kind of background search? Or did they not believe Konoha’s leader could be this strong? Or maybe, maybe they did know, but they felt even the slimmest chance of victory was worth the probable losses? Had they sent them off to their death so easily, without a second thought? No he could not, did not want to believe that. Shinobi might not be more than weapons, but one

wouldn't even throw away weapons so carelessly.  
  
"Shiro. Kokoro," he whispered into the darkness. His teammates. His comrades. His best friend and his lover. He couldn’t even hate Senju for killing them – they attacked him in his sleep, ready to take his life and they failed miserably.  
  
He saw Shiro’s face, silvery hair matted with blood as he crumbled and fall, expression going blank, his beautiful eyes becoming glassy in death. Furiously he blinked away the tears picking the inside of his lids.  
  
He had to be strong now, stronger than he ever was. Somehow he needed to stay alive and escape. He wanted to take the news back home and demand answers. They’d better have damn good ones or Kakuzu would make them regret the day they sent him and his friends to be slaughtered. Whatever it took he couldn’t die in this dingy cell. He’d make the elders sing or he’d make them pay.

/*/*/*/

　

Hidan sighed. He was bored, annoyed and worried, in that order. Kakuzu was out cold for a day now, with no signs of his consciousness returning. His breathing and heartbeat was slow and stable but he remained unmoving, no matter what the priest did. Remembering others doing this to unconscious people, Hidan had pulled up his eyelids, but the bastard didn’t have pupils, which was just as well, as the zealot had no idea what he should look for at it. Staring into Kakuzu’s eyes was a creepy experience even when he was awake, and was even more so now that he stared ahead unseeing, so he had closed them back quickly.  
  
He sighed again. He found a shabby hut with a shabby old man living in it in the mountains so he didn’t have to carry his partner’s prone body for far. The old guy wasn’t even worth sacrificing to Jashin-sama, so he simply dragged his corpse into a safe distance where the smell won’t reach the house and moved themselves in.  
  
There was nothing to do here other than to recite the doctrines of his religion and watch the rise and fall of Kakuzu’s chest. No wonder that after a day he felt that gouging his own eyes out would be more fun to this.  
  
He stood up and paddled over to the narrow bed. Kakuzu took up the whole thing, leaving Hidan to sleep in the creaky armchair, which only made him even more irritable.  
  
"Hey," he poked the other man’s shoulder "wake up already you lazy, old miser!" He received no reaction, so he poked harder. Still nothing. "I hate you, I hope you know that."  
  
To keep himself occupied he dragged the covers down and checked the wounds again. Where Kakuzu’s skin wasn’t stitched it was now bruised, but as far as Hidan could tell he had no broken bones. The most serious injury was a deep gash running from left temple to the middle of his forehead.  
  
"How can you be so puny," Hidan frowned as he changed the bandage covering it. "To get knocked out so after some fall." Admittedly it was a long fall, one that would have let an ordinary shinobi dead for sure. Whatever material the miser was made from, it seemed to resist the worst of the damage. The priest thought back to the lax mass of threads pooling under Kakuzu.   
  
Durable as he was, he still lost four of his hearts, didn’t he? Had they poured out of his body with the threads, he wondered, or were they still inside? If yes, maybe he should get them out or rather still, he should get Kakuzu new ones.  
  
But would he be able to fit them? All of the stitches were closed up, even the ones on his back, where his tentacle monsters slithered out. Gripped by a sudden thought Hidan tried to force a finger under a seam on his chest, but failed.  
  
"Come on, don’t be shy," he muttered "I want to help, but I need to see what’s inside first." He always had been curious about it, but Kakuzu refused to elaborate on the workings of his system. He rummaged through his partner’s pack and pulled out a kunai. Carefully he inserted the tip of the blade under a stitch. His glance kept jumping up to the other’s face, expecting him to wake up at least to this.  
  
"I’m going to cut you up, if you don’t open your eyes," he threatened. "Just do it," he mumbled when he found himself hesitating. Kakuzu had this coming, blacking out like this. He was lucky Hidan hadn’t sent him to Jashin-sama already. He pushed the knife in further, until it stretched the threads holding the edges together upwards. Just a bit further in, and the thin tentacle would snap and he could peek inside. A trickle of blood gushed up where the blade pressed into flesh. Kakuzu didn’t wake.  
  
For an endless minute Hidan stared at the path of red spreading on the unconscious man’s chest before he pulled the kunai away without finishing what he started. He threw down the knife, wiped off the blood and licked it from his fingers.  
  
"You taste just as foul as you look, you stitched up bastard," he informed Kakuzu before he went back to his armchair to sulk.

TBC...


	4. Madara

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Hidan in this chapter… once Madara got an appearance he demanded more attention than I originally intended to give him.  
> Heed the warning/rating from this chapter on, for violence, blood and some gore.

  
  


/*/*/*/

 

 

Back in his cell, Kakuzu lay on his back and stared at the mouldy ceiling. He ached all over, but he was getting used to that. He wasn’t sure how many days have passed, probably only a few, though it felt like years, since the mission had gone to hell. It was hard to keep track of time with no natural light reaching him and only the occasional guard entering, bringing in water and food, and the interrogation sessions breaking the monotony.  
  
The Jounins of Konoha were nothing if not thorough with their questioning. As it was obvious where Kakuzu came from and what his aim was they didn’t waste much time on that. Instead they tried to get as much information about Waterfall village as possible. The young shinobi could withstand physical and mental torture, but when they actually started to mess around in his mind he got afraid.  
  
As soon as they managed to squeeze all relevant information out of him he would be executed, he knew very well. It was more that thought, not his lingering sense of loyalty towards his village that gave him strength to keep his mouth and mind shut.  
  
Escaping and getting home had become an obsession. He wanted the elders to know what had they done. He wanted to know why they had done it. He no longer cared about Konoha, or about Hashirama Senju, just wanted to be free so he could mourn his lover and his friend in peace. He couldn’t do it here - thinking about the lost ones would lower his defences, and he couldn’t afford that. He had a mantra ‘ _I need to stay strong. I have to escape.  I need to stay strong. I have to escape...’_ he kept repeating. As long as he concentrated only on that, he would manage no matter what turns the interrogations took.   
  
Voices coming from outside his cell raised him from his stupor. Silently he crawled closer to the door so he could listen better.  
  
“…still alive?”

 

“Yes, the interrogations are still on-going.”  
  
“Amateurs. Give him to me Hashirama-sama, and I’ll have him singing for you in half an hour.”  
  
“There’s no need for that. Kenta-san and his team know their jobs.”  
  
“Hah, a bunch of idiots! You are just too kind to them. If they feared you, they would do their tasks much more efficiently.”  
  
“I trust them…”  
  
“That’s because you are an idiot as well! An overly trusting idiot…”  
  
“… probably that’s why you are still alive, don’t you think, Madara-san?”  
  
Kakuzu stilled his movements in the silence that followed this statement. He had his face pressed against the bars, trying to peer out to the dimly lit corridor to see the two figures speaking. He could just barely make them out, the tall silhouette of the Hokage and a shorter, slender man.  
  
His brain was foggy with the aftereffects of the interrogators poking through it, with pain and hunger, so it actually took him some time to remember why the name _Madara_ ring the bell.  
  
The leader of the illustrious Uchiha clan, eh? He heard the two were enemies, but he shouldn’t be surprised that the information Takigakure had was incorrect on more than one account. Not that they sounded entirely too friendly…  
  
They came closer and Kakuzu scooted back, out of sight when he heard the footsteps.  
  
“You are now bound to be the target of more attacks,” the Uchiha broke the silence at last “your title and this village will draw attention, and not all will be happy with the new competition.”  
  
“We knew it would happen from the beginning and I was a target of attacks before... as I’m sure you can recall. But yes, I guess they will be even more frequent now. I’m prepared for that. Always prepared.”  
  
Madara just snorted and murmured something that sounded suspiciously like “serves you well”.  
  
“At least you can reassure yourself that it’s all the better for you, not being the Hokage…” The taller man’s tone was light, teasing, and Kakuzu wondered just what the relationship between them was exactly. He recalled now, the stories of how these two fought for the leadership of the newly formed village. He was surprised the Uchiha decided to remain in Konoha and even more that Senju allowed him to stay. He was rumoured to be a very dangerous man.  
  
No answer was forthcoming from Madara as they came up level with his cell. He was focusing on the captive instead, although the way he was frowning indicated he was angry at the comment.  
  
Not as tall as the Hokage or Kakuzu, he was still a striking man, with a mane of unruly black hair, blazing dark eyes and a deceptively young face. He looked through the bars in distaste, his attention fixing just the barest of seconds on the man behind them.  
  
“That’s him? He’s just a kid. They thought a bunch of kids can defeat you? How many were they? Five?”

  
“Three. Desperate times call for desperate measures, I guess.”  
  
“You should let me interrogate him,” the black haired man looked at Kakuzu again, and that eager, cruel glance sent a shiver of fear down the young shinobi’s spine. “Or don’t you trust me to get the information you need?”  
  
“I don’t approve of unnecessary cruelty,” the Hokage shook his head “and I know that you can get carried away...”  
  
“Which didn’t answer if you trust me or not.”

“I don’t think this is the right place for that discussion.”  
  
The Uchiha turned fully towards him, fury radiating from him in palpable waves. Kakuzu felt uncomfortable to be in present of it even if it was not directed at him.  Senju however didn’t bat an eye, looking down at the man with an unmovable calmness that Kakuzu already begin to associate with him.  
  
“I’m fed up with you,” Madara hissed and stormed away. The Hokage spared Kakuzu a glance that he couldn’t quite read and went after him.

/*/*/*/

 

 

He supposed there was a reason for their visit, temporary forgotten with this argument that didn’t quite make a sense, so he expected them to be back. Or at least Senju, as the other man just seemed to tag along.  
  
Still, it was the Uchiha alone who woke Kakuzu. He was lying on the cold floor, passed out where they dropped him after another endless and fruitless interrogation attempt. The slender man’s presence was strong enough to raise the young shinobi from the darkness he had fallen into. When he felt the man hunching over his prone form he instinctively kicked out and rolled away. Not surprisingly they kept his hands tied behind his back, so there was not much he could do as he couldn’t form any hand signs, but the conditioning to fight till the last breath died hard.  
  
Madara easily avoided his bootless feet and went after him. Faster than lightning he grabbed his dirty shirt and despite his lithe frame he effortlessly lifted him up and pinned him against the wall.  
  
“Some assassin you are, boy,” he sneered “you and your stupid little friends. You have some nerves to try to take what is mine!”  
  
“Yours?” Kakuzu asked back, more to buy time than anything else. The Uchiha seemed quite mad, pupils dilated in the darkness of the prison, teeth bared. Anger and raw power radiated off him, making the young man feel dizzy. He wondered if there would be anything he could do, even if he could use his Taijutsu skills.  
  
“Mine to kill, if nothing else!” he threw Kakuzu down, the chakra the young man could actually feel flowing through his hands making the movement overpowering. He straddled his back and pushed a kunai under his chin when he tried to rise up.  
  
“Now let’s see how I should make you pay for your insolence.” He pushed up Kakuzu’s shirt with his free hand and eyed his back critically. “Barely any wounds. A true warrior is covered in scars… you don’t look like more than a child playing ninja. It’s time for you to learn what a dangerous game that is.”  
  
Kakuzu understood what he meant a moment later, when he felt the bite of the knife between his shoulder blades.  The crazed Uchiha kept him in place with a firm grip on his hair as he proceeded to crave long, deep marks into his back.  
  
The pain was bad, but nothing he couldn’t endure or had gotten used to since his capture. But he didn’t understand the motivation of the man. He didn’t demand anything, he didn’t ask anything, just bent on the task of destroying his skin with determination.  
  
“I’ve learned that lesson well,” he gasped at long last, thinking about his dead lover’s smile he would never see again. The grasp on his hair loosened a bit and he could turn his head to peer up at his tormentor. The man straddling his back regarded him as if he just realized someone was lying under him, someone who was bleeding profoundly from the wounds he just craved into his skin. Meeting Kakuzu’s eyes he seemed to come back to himself as he sneered and pushed his head back down.  
  
“You’ve learned nothing worm, _nothing_! You’ve no idea of the pain a true shinobi has to endure, the pain of choosing between your own emotions and your clan’s needs, the things you must do and the things you _want to_ do! If you somehow survive you’ll never forget _this_ and you’d be grateful I taught you something vital…”  
  
Kakuzu doubted he’d ever be grateful for this treatment, but then his chances of survival were so scarce that he felt it didn’t really matter. Closing his eyes he tried to block out the pain and waited for Madara to finish his torment and leave him alone.

**TBC…**


	5. Struggling to Stay Alive

/*/*/*/

　

　

"…yeah, I’m not saying it can be done without a certain degree of fanaticism, but then anything worth doing needs a nice dose of that, don’t you think? Like you – Jashin knows why, but you decided that the only thing you care about is money and you are nothing if not fanatic about it. So who the fuck are _you_ to judge _me_? No, you don’t even have to answer, I know what you’re like. You think you’re so superior to everyone else, especially to me. You know what I think about that, Kakuzu? You can go and fuck yourself! You’re not better than me at all…"  
  
Hidan kept grumbling to himself as he tried to make something edible from the various canned and dried food he found in the hut. So far he hardly succeeded, but he wasn’t giving up.  
  
"Well, you’re strong, I give you that," he raised his voice again, mouth full with something he called stew for the lack of a better word "but I’m immortal. Really immortal, no matter what you say. That fact itself should be enough for anyone to believe in Jashin-sama, but no, you’re such a fucking sceptic, you rather turn a blind eye on it. Honestly you motherfucker, do you believe in anything at all? Other than your bloody money, that is. After ninety years or what, you should have found something better, don’t you think…?"  
  
He put the bowl down next to a few other ones that were half-full with his previous cooking attempts and flopped down on the narrow bed next to Kakuzu.  
  
"Budge over, will you? You keep hogging the bed. My back hurts like fuck after sleeping three nights in that shitty chair. Hell if I know why I’m doing this for you…"  
  
He tried to shift into a more comfortable position, but there really wasn’t any space for it. In the end he dragged his armchair over and put his legs up on the bed.  
  
"You should really wake up now. Having a conversation with you became even duller like this. I’d even go for your bloody noncommittal grunts or oh-so-witty comments."  
  
He waited, but no reply came from the unconscious man in the bed. Within a few minutes he lost his patience. He slammed his feet down on

the ground and leaned in close to the other’s face.  
  
"You hear it asshole? Wake up! Wake. Up! WAKE UP!" he shouted at last, but Kakuzu didn’t even flinch. "Ah come on, I feel like you’re doing it on purpose. How long do you want to stay like this?"  
  
He grabbed the stitched shoulders and shook him forcefully. No reaction. Gently he patted his cheek, but still nothing. He pushed down the covers, exposing the other’s naked chest and run his fingers down his side and tried to tickle him, but that didn’t work either.  
  
He narrowed his eyes, contemplating the wiseness of the next move. Deciding he didn’t care about the consequences as it was an opportunity never to return, he drew his hand back and landed a full-blown, open palmed slap on the older man’s face. Kakuzu’s head rolled to the side and a red handprint started to bloom on his dark skin, but he showed no sign of feeling it.  
  
Hidan collapsed back to the chair and buried his face in his hands. A wave of despair swept over him, which he tried to shook off, as it was such an alien feeling for him. He was, he had to admit, worried. What if Kakuzu never woke? Should he ask for help? But where from? There was no one in the Akatsuki he thought would be capable and willing to help and he hardly kept any other acquaintances. He was in this alone.  
  
"Fucking hell," he muttered "why me?"  
  


/*/*/*/

　

Something was going on in Konoha, it was obvious from the whispered conversations his guards had, but he couldn’t get the whole picture from the bits and pieces he managed to catch. It was serious enough to withdraw most of the prison staff. Even the regular interrogations stopped.  
  
The only thing to measure time

against now were the visits of Madara Uchiha. Five times had he come so far, so Kakuzu thought five days had passed since that first visit of him and the Hokage. He was acting increasingly distraught and mad, making the captive suspect that he had some connection with the upheaval outside.  
  
Everything he managed to get information about was now through Madara.Of the happenings in Konoha, about the Uchiha himself, about Hashirama Senju. Each and every tidbits of information was precious - they meant a reason to escape with the news he could bring back home... if he was very lucky, maybe, just maybe some could be used to help him break out of imprisonment. He didn’t yet see how - but he couldn’t give up hope, or he would just die.   
  
Dying - that seemed the easiest way out, but that was a coward's path. So he endured and listened. Madara would whisper wrathful comments about his clan, the Hokage or the village in general as he continued to crave deep gashes into Kakuzu’s skin and flesh on each occasion he came to his cell. Ignoring the pain the best he could, the young ninja forced himself to pay attention, his mind not to cloud over with agony, so he might find a way to use what he heard.  
  
"The bloody idiot," the Uchiha would hiss, dark eyes narrowed as he looked down at him, but obviously not really seeing "so sure of himself…."  
  
"Ungrateful bastards," he would grit at the other day pushing the kunai deeper still, ignoring the moans of agony coming from the young man underneath him "they will be treated like shit, I can tell that, but they are too blind to see, dazzled by the light of the all-wonderful Hokage…"  
  
"Why are you doing this?" Kakuzu questioned him. He was going numb from pain and was afraid he would lose all chance of escape if this continued in no time. Madara just smiled cruelly at him. All hints of madness were gone from his eyes in an instant , but it didn’t make him any less frightening.  
  
"Because I need an outlet for my anger, and no one will miss you, don’t you agree my little worm from Takigakure? I’m doing it because I can. That’s the privilege of the strong."  
  
He fought him again, and was overpowered again. Even if his hands had been free, it wouldn’t have made much of a difference, Kakuzu knew. The man radiated off raw power just like Hashirama Senju did, and he learned what chances he stood against him. So he gritted his teeth and vowed for the thousandth time that he wouldn’t give up, that he would survive and escape. Only by now he didn’t just crave to be free so he could mourn his loss in peace. He desperately wanted to get stronger, so never again could anyone subdue him like this.  
  
The fifth visit came, and Madara was more distraught than ever. In no time Kakuzu was lying on his back underneath him, gritting his teeth at the pain he was again causing. When he suddenly stopped his torture and his eyes went staring yet unseeing the young Takigakure nindja didn’t even register it immediately, thinking he was just getting a better grip on his knife, or searching for a spot on his body he hadn’t marked yet.   
  
His eyes just snapped open when with a gentleness that scared Kakuzu more than anything else that had been done to him so far, Madara touched his face and neck, smearing them with blood and whispered something gentle, loving, that he didn’t really care to catch. Lowering his face until his forehead touched Kakuzu’s he stayed still, expect for his hands that continued to caress the captive’s arms and shoulders.  
  
At first the young man didn’t dare to move, but soon the fake intimacy became too much. When soft lips touched his bruised brows he broke the silence, questioning Madara in a raspy voice what he was doing.  
  
The Uchiha snapped back to reality instantly and started to work again on scaring him with vengeance.  
  
Later on, lying still in a hopeless attempt that it would stop the flow of blood sooner, Kakuzu wondered if Madara got angered at finding him, and not Hashirama underneath. Whatever the relationship actually was between the leaders of the Senju and the Uchiha clan, he didn’t envy the Hokage for it.  
  
Although it pained him more than the aching of his wounds he thought back to his short liaison, lasting a mere year, with Shiro. There was passion in there, yes, but it was also compassionate and friendly. What could it be like, he wondered, to have someone look at you with equal loathing and desire, with emotions burning so high that it made him mad. He thought that was why Madara forgot who he was. Whenever he drew his blood or touched his face, Kakuzu was sure it was Hashirama Senju he was actually seeing in his place.  
  
Did the Hokage know? It was a potential weakness, the only one he’d found so far. Had Madara ever managed to get who he so craved for? Did he look at Senju in the throes of passion with those burning, insane eyes, wanting to hurt, wanting to love? Was it why the Hokage tolerated him still in his village? Or was he nothing more to him than the leader of the Uchiha clan, a rival, an enemy he temporarily made peace with? Maybe that was why Madara came to him, to use him as a poor substitute – it wasn’t as if Kakuzu could tell about his visits to anyone.  
  
Having nothing else to do he stared into the darkness for a long time, thinking about the love he lost and the love that burned up his tormentor, trying to come up with a way he could use this secret maybe only he was in possession of to his opportunity.  
  
  
 ** _TBC..._**


	6. A Door Opened

/*/*/*/

　

Hidan sighed. He was doing it a lot lately and that irritated him. He was not the sighing type, but the situation called for it.  
  
"Let me make this clear," he said to Kakuzu "I’m not doing this because I want to. It’s for your benefit only, so if you decide to wake in the meantime you can’t bite my head off for it."  
  
He sighed again, caught himself at doing so and frowned. Sighing all the time and talking to an unconscious man became a habit in less than a week. Jashin help him.  
  
He dragged the covers down, baring Kakuzu in all his naked, stitched glory and wondered how to do this without getting the bed slopping wet. In the end he dipped a fairly clean towel into the water he

'd warmed up and started to wipe off the other's skin.  
  
He managed to keep a serious face as long as he worked on the arms and chest, telling himself it needed to be done as he didn’t want his partner to stink. However when he lifted the man’s arms to wash his armpits, the absurdity of the situation hit him. Kakuzu didn’t react to the caress of the cloth, but Hidan did in his stead and burst out into a fit of loud, if somewhat strained laughter.  
  
"Shit, never tell anyone about this, or my reputation will be ruined," he told his partner. "Oh, wait. You won’t even know about it. Lucky, eh? But let’s continue..."  
  
He did so, mouth still twitching as he went lower to wash Kakuzu’s feet and shins, then up his thighs. It was strange, he pondered, that although if you took in the whole picture the old bastard looked ugly and frightening, some parts of him still looked... _nice_.  
  
Like his legs for example. He had shapely, muscular shins and his thighs were even better, with just a single long scar running down on each. Well maybe that would be a turnoff for most people, but in all honesty Hidan rather liked it. Maybe because he didn’t and would never have any scars of his own, and the made them a bit... exotic. He run the cloth over one of them, then putting it away he did the same with his bare hand. It had a strange, rough and bumpy texture. It definitely felt there were muscles underneath and not that weird tentacle stuff. No, these were solid, hard muscles of the real kind. Hidan’s hands slid up just to confirm the same on the chest and arms as well.  
  
It wasn't an ugly body, he could admit that much. Certainly powerful with its well developed muscles. If there wouldn’t be all those stitches, making Kakuzu look like a ragdoll sewn together by an altogether not very talented craftsman... though Hidan personally didn’t mind them that much. He followed one with his fingertips from the top of his ribcage to the slightly jutting out hipbone.  
  
He pressed his palm down there, to touch more skin than he could with just the tips of his fingers. He slid his hand to the inside of Kakuzu’s thigh, where there were no scars, liking the contrast of its tan against his own fair skin. It was probably more the old bastard’s personality than his actual looks that sent people scattering away in fear from him. With him out cold and thus harmless, he wasn’t bad looking _that much_ \- there were people who went for rough and scarred after all.  
  
"There’s still hope for you to get laid, you heathen miser," he sniggered "though probably only if you get knocked out first."  
  
Thinking he shouldn’t leave his job half-finished he picked up the towel again, still grinning, and slid it over Kakuzu’s groin. His other hand remained where it was for balance. This area was unmarked - Hidan was disappointed that he didn’t accept that bet Kisame had tried to force on him the last time they were at the base and he and sharky-boy had too much sake, because he would have won. Kakuzu looked like any normal man in this aspect. He smirked, one hand unconsciously drawing small circles on the soft skin of other’s inner thigh, the other sliding the cloth from his penis down below his balls.  
  
He was getting aroused he realized with a jolt. He was sitting there, caressing a naked, unconscious Kakuzu in the guise of washing him and was getting a boner on it.  
  
"Bloody hell," he snarled, pulling his hands back. _What. The. Fuck_. It wasn’t as if he was attracted to Kakuzu or any shit like that. Just because the heathen bastard had a much nicer body that anyone would have given him credit for,the way he hid it all the time under the very un-sexy Akatsuki cloak...  
  
So yeah, maybe he was a bit fascinated by him, had been since they first met, but it wasn’t anything sexual, right? Right? Looking down to the persistent tent in his pants he had to admit that he wasn’t right. Obviously. He shifted uncomfortably.  
  
He had half the mind to just open his trousers and toss off. He was never the one to deny any pleasure from himself, believing self-restraint was for those who were afraid or ashamed of their own desires. Serving Jashin-sama for years pretty much eliminated his own fears or shames.  
  
Still, _Kakuzu_... that was just gross. He could have developed this craving for anyone... but no, he had to settle for the most closed-up, dangerous, misery bastard in existence. He could get some tension relieved now of course and his partner wouldn’t even know, but... he wanted him to know, damnit.  
  
"This is your fucking fault," he growled. "You son-of-a-bitch, this is your fucking fault, so wake up already and tell me what to fucking do."  
  


/*/*/*/

Kakuzu looked up when the door of his cell opened. He wasn’t surprised to find Madara in front of him, but he was shocked by his appearance. He seemed cracking with power, his chakra flaring up from his fair skin in visible waves. His hair was even more unruly than usual, his eyes spinning red wind wheels and his armor was tainted with blood.  
  
"It looks like this is our goodbye, little captive," he said. "I’ll be leaving this damned village."  
  
"A lovers’ quarrel with Senju?" Kakuzu hazarded, aiming to keep his cool. The next instant he was flat on his back, Madara pinning him down, his slender fingers clutching his throat, closing off air. He didn’t even try to fight him, just looked up to his tormentor as calmly as he could given his situation. A moment later the grip eased and he could breath again.  
  
"Not afraid of me any longer?" Madara laughed, fingers now caressing his neck then settling above his pulse. "Your heart still beats fast though...but you have learned a lot I guess." He patted Kakuzu’s cheek and his eyes went hard like steel, glinting with mad cruelty. "Let me give you my last present, something to remember me by."  
  
The kunai was in his hand faster than the young man’s eye could follow. Kakuzu refused to flinch as the sharp tip was pressed painfully into the tender skin under his eye. A moment later it slid lower, pushed down at the corner of his lips. Madara cut in deep there, tearing through skin and flesh and torturously slowly pulling it upwards, craving a cruel imitation of a grin into his flesh from mouth to ear.  
  
Kakuzu wanted to struggle, to push him off and flee, or at least yell out his pain, but forced himself to remain motionless. He had no chance to fend off the Uchiha, so he would achieve nothing but his own humiliation if he tried, as it happened countless times. He searched for his tormentor eyes, but Madara only looked at him when he finished his morbid task on the other side of his face as well.  
  
For once it seemed to give him no joy, maybe because he remained conscious it was Kakuzu he did it for and not Hashirama Senju. He looked down at him grimly. He stood up and, though he was not a tall man, somehow still towering above him, dragged the young ninja up to his knees. Kakuzu was sure he saw his own death in those bottomless eyes. He didn’t even mind - it would be an end to this agony, and he would have welcomed that after all that’s been done to him.  
  
However no final strike of the blade came. Leaning over his shoulders the Uchiha cut the ropes tying his hands back for so long. Then he crouched down and kissed him, tainting his pale lips red with the blood that was filling Kakuzu’s mouth. It hurt - even the slightest move of his face hurt, but then, Madara was obviously not doing it to cause pleasure for either of them.  
  
"I guess you've really learned your lesson," he said at long last, pulling back. "I fully intend to leave chaos as I make my exit. This is your only chance. If you survive _this_ , you will survive _anything_."  
  
With that he was gone. It took Kakuzu a moment to realize that he left the door of his cell open.  
  
He pushed himself up to unsteady feets and stumbled out to the corridor. He met no one living in the prison, though the corpses of the guards marked the way of the Uchiha. He kneeled down next to one of them to take his clothes. The man had bandages wrapped around his arms and legs. He took those as well, to cover the lower half of his face.  
  
Outside it was cloudy, but the light was still strong for his eyes after the time spent in prison. Squinting and keeping his head low he made his way out of Konoha.  
  
Madara was right about the chaos. The whole village was in upheaval or he wouldn’t have made it otherwise. As it was, groups of ninjas and civilians seemed to run along headlessly. There were the signs of fights everywhere, fires, injured and dead people...  
  
He didn’t look at them and not a single soul paid any attention to the young Waterfall shinobi as he staggered through the streets. He didn’t stop until he was deep into the surrounding forest. When he felt he was now far enough he collapsed on the ground and fall into a dreamless sleep.

　

TBC...

 


	7. Welcome Home

/*/*/*/

 

 

He was having a bit of a problem. Well, it was his problem only until he managed to hold himself back. After that it would be Kakuzu’s problem... But no... he really shouldn’t....  
  
So he had this thing for the scarred old bastard, he could admit it now. And yes, he had it for a while, cleverly hidden under all that resentment, anger, frustration and violence he otherwise felt when it came to him. What the _thing_  actually was he still wasn’t sure, but it was a mix of lust, the urge to prove himself, a deep want to get _Kakuzu_ want him and something more profound he tried his best pretending didn’t exist.  
  
The tricky part of the whole mess was that it wasn’t _only_ Kakuzu’s body he craved for. He could get that now, with the miser still out cold... Hidan already got as far as dragging the covers off him, to inspect, fondle and grope, and yes, prod and poke before chickening out and stopping all his actions.  
  
Not that he wasn’t fantasizing about going all the way. Hell, he kept imagining it, turning Kakuzu to his stomach, pushing those muscular thighs apart... But he wasn’t into doing it to someone who wouldn’t even know about it. It would be a hundred times better, for both of them, with Kakuzu awake and willing. He ignored the nagging thought that _awake_ and _willing_ pretty much eliminated each other in this case.   
  
He would just need to convince Kakuzu of this new aspect they could have in their partnership. No reason why he would decline Hidan, right?   
  
Sure he would, the realistic part of his brain supplied. Even if just to piss him off. Not to mention that the closest to sexual excitement he had even seen the bastard show was when he got thrilled by _really_ large sums of money... and that wasn’t sexy at all, no matter how you looked at it.  
  
The easiest way would be to just to forget this newly found fascination, but how could he with no outlet for his tension? He couldn’t think of anything else with the other man lying so close and vulnerable _and_ unknowing of anything Hidan might do... He groaned, covering his face in his hands. Back to square one.  
  
After a while he came up with a solution, such as it was. He dragged his chair close up to the bed and sometimes touching, but mostly just watching the other’s naked body he jerked off. Throughout it he half dreaded, half hoped Kakuzu would wake. Would he be angry or shocked? Maybe he would be turned on and want to join in?   
  
His breathing quickened at that thought. Yes, that was what he wanted - Kakuzu to open his eyes, to reach out and touch him. He would be dazed from the long days spent unconscious, but smart as he always was, would catch up with what was happening quickly. He would pull Hidan down on the bed, wrap his strong fingers around his length, and whisper _“So you were here, taking care of me all the time? Let me return the favour...”_  
  
Or better yet, he would slid lower, to take him to his mouth, the priest’s cock stretching that stitched face... he would push in deeper into the wet heat, fingers tracing the scars he recently developed a fascination with...  
  
Hidan came with a loud and drawn-out groan which, unfortunately, failed to bring Kakuzu back from his coma. He remained sprawled in the chair, keeping his messy hand away from the rest of his body, eying his partner in disappointment.  
  
“Tell me you dickhead,” he growled “what do you want me to do to finally wake up? Don’t think I won’t fuck you if you don’t stop this soon, because swear to Jashin, I will. I give you three more days, and that’s it. After that, your ass is mine.”  


/*/*/*/

  
He couldn’t recall most of his journey back home. He was shaking with traumatic fever, hunger and exhaustion, but he wasn’t giving up. As Madara said - he survived the prison, the mental and physical tortures and the escape from Konoha. He was prepared to survive anything and everything life would throw at him at this point.  
  
The only moment standing out from the general haziness was when he stopped at a small lake to wash himself and could take a look at his reflection in its surface for the first time.  
  
His whole body and face were covered in dried, flaking blood. He scrubbed it off to reveal deep, mostly still open wounds. Still he hardly felt any pain when he prodded them, which he knew was a bad sign. Ignoring that, he did what he could to wash them clean. The healers of Takigakure could do their bloody best to get rid of the infections once he managed to get back.  
  
The worst by all means was his face. The bizarre grin Madara had carved into his cheeks was so deep that if he pulled away the torn edges he could see his teeth through the wound. He looked like a monster. A creature of nightmare. He was hit by a wave of nausea so strong it made him kneel over in the shallow water. He remained unmoving, head bowed, taking deep breaths until he slowly got better.  
  
It didn’t matter how he looked, he told himself firmly. His appearance, morbid as it was, just proved what he went through and survived. No longer looking like a kid playing ninja, right, Madara? He certainly didn’t feel like the young man of only a few weeks ago.   
  
He forced himself to stand up and get going. His village was waiting for him, promising rest, cure for his pains, and the most important of all, answers to his questions.  
  
The next days went on in a blur. He couldn’t recall how he made it, but suddenly he was on ground he knew so well, stumbling amongst familiar trees, the rumble of the huge waterfall - the sound of home - becoming louder and louder with each unsteady step.   
  
He didn’t know what to expect. Shock at his appearance certainly. Bewilderment at hearing his stories of the might of the Hokage and horror for the pains he had to endure. Remorse from the elders for sending them off to certain death. Maybe even awe that he managed to escape that in the end.  
  
What he wasn’t prepared for was the group of elite ninjas who surrounded him even before he could enter the village. In the state he was in it took him some time to understand they didn’t come to help, but to drag him off into a prison _again_ and out of sight from the gawking passer-bys.  
  
He thought they misunderstood something. That they simply didn’t recognise him under all the wounds and makeshift bandages.  
  
The truth only hit him when he was thrown down at the feet of one of the elders. The man shook his grey head, looking at him with thinly veiled anger.  
  
“Kakuzu... we have expected so much better from you. Couldn’t you at least died honourably like your comrades did? No, you had to crawl back like a maggot, letting everyone see your failure... What are we to do with you now?”  
  
“What are you talking about Samui - sama?” he demanded. “You have no idea what I...”  
  
“Oh I have the right idea,” the elder interrupted. “We received reports of you - that you were taken captive after you failed. That you miraculously escaped. Tell me - what secrets have you spilled to save your miserable skin? Don’t even try to lie son - I can’t even begin to imagine what you might have traded to get Senju to let you run.”  
  
Cold fury swept over Kakuzu and settled in the pit of his stomach. His muscles strained, his instinct screaming at him to attack the old bastard. Outwardly however he remained calm.   
  
“Take a good look at me, if you think they just let me go,” he challenged. Keeping his movements slow and calm, so the group of elite ninjas now acting as his wardens wouldn’t misunderstand it, he unwrapped the bandages from his face. The ender’s glance jumped to the terrible would, before flickering away, obviously disgusted.  
  
“So you say they broken you and let you run when you spilled all you could give?” he directed his question at the stone wall behind him.  
  
“I wouldn't be alive if I had given them what they wanted! I stayed alive and escaped so I can bring you information and have my own questions answered...”  
  
“The fact remains,” he was ridden over by a newcomer - another damn elder- “that _you_ managed to save your own skin when your comrades died. _You_ should have died with them to make your failure forgivable. _You_ should have taken your own life to ensure no intelligence could be coaxed from you. Don’t think we will be so soft with you like Konoha was. You’ll be sorely punished for your crimes.”  
  
Kakuzu didn’t even try to reply to that. Ignoring the gnawing pain and fury that was growing in his guts hearing this treachery, he searched for the elder's eyes. Samui avoided his glance - it seemed he couldn’t stomach to look at his face - but the other man looked back at him with cold, hard determination.  
  
They knew he was telling the truth, Kakuzu realized. How they got the knowledge – were their group followed by another shinobi or if the leaders had spies in Konoha – it didn’t make a difference. It only mattered that they _knew it_ , but they wouldn’t acknowledge it.

This way only a handful would ever know of the attack and that it failed because Hashirama Senju’s power surpassed the wildest imagination, making the new village of the Leaf far superior to Takigakure. Obviously they were more than willing to keep that information secret at the cost of keeping Kakuzu shunned away - or at the cost of his life.

 

**_TBC_ ** ****__  
  
  



	8. Revenge

/*/*/*/

 

Lightning flashed through the dark sky, illuminating for a mere moment the dripping wet figure of the escapee, dressed in tattered, dirty clothes that did nothing to hide the terrible wounds marking his body. Fresh blood splattered his chest and covered his right arm, the one holding the kunai, up to the elbow. The guard took an involuntary step back as the gruesome creature appeared out of the night storm, making Kakuzu’s task of sinking the weapon deep into his throat laughingly easy.   
  
More blood. The red staining him tonight wasn’t his own.   
  
He didn’t even try to keep count of the men he killed. They used to be his comrades, his peers from the village, but that didn’t mean anything any longer. Takigakure decided to turn its back on him and he paid it back with interest.  
  
The elders - they ridiculed him, tried to make him the scapegoat of their own misdeed. His peers - they turned a blind eye and played along. He had no one any longer to care about, his close family lost long ago and now his friends killed as well. There was none who could have made him show mercy.  
  
There had been a mock hearing. His judges weren’t interested in what Kakuzu might say, that was obvious from the beginning. He was just the scapegoat - that was made quite clear as they listed his sins. It was sickening to listen to them place all blame for the failed mission on him alone, but by then he was expecting it. Irresponsibility as a leader, treachery for saving his own life - he knew it would be coming and took it as stoically as he could.  
  
What really made his stomach turn was when they brought up his - obviously not-so- secret liaison with Shiro.  
  
He corrupted his lover, said the verdict, making him vulnerable and leaving him in a dishevelled state of mind and thus was to blame for his death. He had also become weak himself, they added, with engaging in such an act. If he had resisted his disgusting urges, he would have stayed strong. As this, he couldn’t keep his attention on the task.   
  
_His fault. His sin._  
  
Kakuzu stood stock still, enduring all the filth they poured on him without a flinch. He wasn’t given any new clothes. His wounds hadn’t been cleaned. He wasn’t even offered a chair to sit down on at the hearing, but strangely he didn’t feel sick or tired any longer.  
  
He kept his head high and tried to look the elders in the eye as they delivered more and more lies. Only one of the five had the guts to return his gaze.  
  
He would kill them all he decided. He would make the whole fucking village pay. That purpose gave him newfound strength. He added to his mantra, blocking out the ridiculous blames and judgements after a while.   _I’m strong. I will survive. I will make them pay._  
  
He escaped from imprisonment on that night. The jailers were just a bunch of amateurs compared to their collages from Konoha. Still, he wasn’t satisfied with simply running away. He burned for revenge.  
  
He left a bloody trail of bodies behind, from his cell to the formidable building he now stood in front. Anyone who happened to cross his way died, wards, shinobi, civilians. He didn’t feel remorse. This was only the beginning.  
  
He broke into the treasury, searching through the scrolls with cold determination. He knew what he was looking for. Everyone knew about the forbidden technique, treasured and feared by the elders. If rumours were true it was a key for turning a human body into perfect weapon. Still, no one dared to use it for long generations, the leading clans banning all even to read the instructions long before the village was even formed.  
  
When he located and read it, Kakuzu found the technique fiendishly easy. _If_ one was ready to make the sacrifices, that is. What it demanded from the user was terrible; to tore his own body open, the willingness to give up what he was, to turn blood and flesh into something else, living yet inhuman... It was perfect for someone, like Kakuzu, who had nothing to lose.   
  
To give up what made him the way he was? It had been taken away from him already. To rip open his flesh clean to the bone... He thought about the horrible gashes marking his body, his face. That had been done for him already. Madara eased his path into darkness.   
  
“You were right,” he whispered “I am grateful for what you taught me.” That it was the strong only who survived. That power came to you at great cost. That in the end being idealistic or faithful meant _nothing_. That he would have only what he managed to take by force.  
  
He chuckled, dark and painful for it stretched his open wounds and shook his beaten body. Still, he could not stop even as it bloomed into a throaty laugh that sounded raw and mad to his own ears. He sank to his knees, one hand clutching his abdomen, the other smearing blood on the scroll he held in a death grip. His voice was soon gone, but he continued to laugh silently until tears started to fall from his eyes, until he had to double over, his forehead touching the ground. When the crazy cackle turned into heart-wrenching sobs, he took hold of himself and calmed his breathing. He didn’t have the time for this. He couldn’t afford to break down, not now, not ever.  
  
He’d made his decision. He would be strong and survive. He would live through the elders, any habitants of this wretched village he would no longer call home. He would be alive even when Hashirama Senju and Madara Uchiha were no more than bones under the ground.   


/*/*/*/

  
Hidan was slumbering, his legs thrown over the arm of the chair, head lolling to his shoulder in an uncomfortable angle. When Kakuzu suddenly started to laugh, he jerked up, almost falling out of the chair in surprise.  
  
He rushed over to the bed, only to find that his partner wasn’t awake. Still, he was laughing, rough, without any mirth, almost hysterically. It was creepy as fuck, would have been that even if Kakuzu was conscious, but like this, with his eyes closed and his body otherwise unmoving was a hundred times more frightening.  
  
Hidan tried everything in his repertoire - shaking, shouting, slapping - but they didn’t prove any more useful than on previous occasions. Kakuzu didn’t stop until tears started to slip from under his closed lids. Then the sound was abruptly cut off, and the priest was left to dry up the wetness from the other’s face with his sleeve.  
  
He felt lost, and oddly embarrassed. Tears and laughter - that was more emotion than Kakuzu had shown since the whole time they had been partnered up together. Just what the heck was the old bastard dreaming about?  


/*/*/*/

  
By the time two elders burst into the treasury, alerted too late of the prisoner’s escape and the death of the guards, Kakuzu had already mastered the forbidden technique. Though the new power was still alien to him, the men were so obviously scared out of their wits to found what he had become that he defeated them without any difficulty.   
  
One of them died - with the strength the kinjutsu granted he hit too hard and crushed the man’s windpipe, but the other was still alive when Kakuzu knelt down next to him, kunai in hand. Cutting the old man’s chest open didn’t prove to be more of a challenge than tearing his shirt off before. The grey eyes watched him in horror as he slowly reached inside the wet cave of the ribcage, fingers looking for the beating heart.  
  
His new power flew through his veins, burning like lava, thrilling him in an almost sexual fashion. Was it how Madara had felt those times in his prison cell in Konoha? It wasn’t just that he was now physically much stronger, but that he was finally in control. No one would push _him_ down to the ground to do as they pleased after this. The tables were turned. He fought for and got his chance of revenge for everything that was done to him.   
  
“Samui - sama,” he whispered “I hope you regret it now, not giving me the welcome I deserved.” He pulled, ripping arteries and veins, his free hand covering the wrinkled mouth to muffle the wails of pain. All the while he watched keenly as the elder’s eyes clouded over with agony then became dull in death.  
  
Thin threads reached out from his own chest, without any conscious thought from his part, and wrapped around the still beating organ to pull it inside. Kakuzu closed his eyes and let his reformed body act on instinct. In no time the new heart was connected, beating steadily next to his own. Then the tentacles reached outside and stitched the wound together.  
  
There were no words to describe the sensation. The pain - his constant companion of the last weeks - subdued. He felt powerful. Elated. Invincible.  
  
Now guiding them consciously, Kakuzu extended another few threads. Imagining what he wanted seemed to be enough, as they moved, pushing in under the skin and pulling another deep wound closed. He smiled coldly in satisfaction.  
  
If what the scroll said was true, this was only the beginning. He would be able to learn new techniques that were so far unavailable for him. Experiment with his transformed body to bring out the maximum of it. He could have two or three more hearts - if only one extra made him feel this good he couldn’t wait to find out how more would.  
  
He chuckled again, the sound clear and sane this time, though full of malice. He just had the perfect candidates who could donate their hearts. Two of the elders were down, but there were still three to go.

 

**_TBC…_ **


	9. Awakening

  
/*/*/*/

When he checked on him in the morning Kakuzu seemed more alert, giving Hidan hope he would wake soon. It was obvious now that he was dreaming - his arms and legs twitched, his eyes moved under the lids, his mouth formed silent words that he couldn’t make out no matter how he tried.

Pulling his armchair close, the priest watched him like a hawk whole day. He wanted to be the first thing the miser would see upon waking. He wanted him to recognise right away that Hidan had been taking care of him.

That’s right - over a week he'd looked over, carried to shelter, washed and even tried to feed him (which hadn’t been a success, but he didn’t need to know that, and anyway the old bastard never ate too much, Jashin knew where he got his energy from).

Not to mention that he very valiantly resisted all his urges, and neither sacrificed nor fucked his partner. He felt he deserved the highest praise for that alone. And some compensation preferably.

He imagined it a million times, how Kakuzu would react upon waking up and finding Hidan looming above him. Each version was more exciting (and, he could admit it, less probable) than the previous one.

So yeah, it wouldn’t happen in a million years, but he still wanted Kakuzu to wake up and be grateful. Happy to have Hidan there - or whatever passed as happiness for the sour old bastard. He had even less chance for have him playing along with the the priest’s newly found fascination of him, but a man can dream. So he prayed to Jashin for help, not that his god dealt with such things, but he thought it couldn’t cause and harm. He also tried to convince himself that it didn’t matter that much anyway - he would settle for the usual sarcasm - he could work with that later. He just wanted the other to finally get out of his coma. He wasn’t fit for the role of a nurse. Not at all.

“Just wake up already,” he muttered, leaning even closer. “You can thank me later, for now it’s enough if you open your eyes.” He might had been imagining things, but it seemed as if Kakuzu’s lids fluttered open to a crack. Holding his breath he waited.

  
/*/*/*/

  
“Have you heard it? The battle of the century...”

“... lost in the end, but it was a close thing...”

“I don’t know who leads the Uchiha clan now...”

“Senju is seriously injured as well...”

“The battle lasted two days...”

“...three days...”

“...a whole week...”

“Dead. Madara Uchiha is dead, it’s certain. The Hokage survived.”

“I tell you, that’s the truth. I heard it from my cousin, and the sister of his wife lives in Konoha...”

Kakuzu pulled his newly acquired mask down below his chin to take a sip of his sake. No one payed any attention to the deep wounds on his face, now pulled closed by rough stitches. The whole inn was buzzing with the newest gossip. It seemed to hold the interest of everyone. Shocking as his new appearance was, the defeat of the notorious leader of the Uchiha clan kept the attention of the other clients away from him.

He would have welcomed it, this lack of attention if there were a different reason for it. Although weeks have passed since his flight from his village, he was still trying to get used to how his body looked. He was still startled whenever he caught sight of his reflection somewhere. Not to mention how other people stared at him. Getting a heavy overcloak that covered the clay figures that now deformed his back and a mask and hood to hide his face helped. Like this it was only his eyes, coloured to an unnatural green and red by the kinjutsu that stood out. It was the first time spent amongst people that he wasn’t drawing attention to himself. Well, he guessed nothing competed with _the battle of the century._

The stories people told got more and more wondrous as the afternoon turned into night and the level of alcohol they consumed rose. _Madara had summoned a demon to fight by his side. Hashirama commanded a whole forest to bend to his will to fend off the Uchiha’s attack. The whole landscape changed beyond recognition where they clashed._

Kakuzu would have discarded these as gossip blown up, as simple malarkey... but he had felt on his own skin the power of that two. He thought that some of the stories, even the very wild ones, may held some truth.

He left the money on the table for the drink and went to roam the streets of the small town. Crowds were mingling still, despite the late hour, talking about the same as the guests of the inn. Contradictory as the tales they told were, on one account all agreed: that Madara was dead, beaten down by Hashirama Senju.

_Only the strong survives, you said._

He felt oddly at loss. His vague plans of trying to find the Uchiha were thwarted. He told himself that it was all for the better. What would have he done, if he found him? Challenged him? Offered his services to him? Shown him that he was now so much stronger? That he was a survivor? Ask him to teach him, to accept him as an apprentice...?

The whole idea had been ridiculous, fueled only by the fact that he was suddenly without an anchor. For the first time in his life there was no one to give him orders, to tell him what to do. He was his own master now. He had no idea what to do with himself, without a village and mates to fight for, superiors to handle him assignments.

He was roaming the dark streets aimlessly when he caught sight of a faded poster. _“Are you a strong warrior? Then this job is for you!”_ large letters announced above a picture of a bald man. It promised ten million Ryo for the head of the guy who must have been a serious thorn in the eye of the town.

Fighting and killing for money. His old village would have disapproved of it sorely and that in itself was an enough reason for do it. He knew nothing else than to fight anyway. To do it on someone else command or simply for his own living - he didn’t see the difference.

He tore the poster from the board and tucked it into his pocket. It was time to shed the remaining idealism that bloody Takigakure planted into him. It was time to see things for what they were. It was time to wake up.

 

  
/*/*/*/

 

He saw it again - a flutter of eyes. Hidan leaned in closer still, his face now only an inch away from Kakuzu’s. There it was - a sliver of green under the lids.

“Kakuzu,” unintentionally he was whispering. He cleared his throat and tried louder. “Kakuzu!”

The other’s eyes opened further, although they were still unfocused, looking somewhere above the priest’s head. Hidan grasped his hair, in his excitement rougher than he intended, to turn his face towards him, calling out his name for the third time. He had been afraid, he could admit it now, that the old bastard wouldn’t wake at all.

Those strange green, pupilless eyes blinked at him, trying to focus on him. The brows above them furrowed as if trying to work out a puzzle. Kakuzu’s lips were moving, so Hidan leaned down closer still so he could hear what he was saying in a raspy voice.

“You...? How...?”

“I’ve been here you miserable old grouch, waiting for you to wake up finally! You fell from that bloody cliff and hit your fucking head and...”

“Shiro,”

“Who?” Hidan wanted to ask, but didn’t got the chance as Kakuzu threaded his fingers in his hair and yanked his head down.

“Wh...” he started again, just to be silenced as the bloody, cheating, stitched bastard kissed him. It wasn’t any peck on the lips either, but drawn out and sensuous, with Kakuzu’s tongue pushing into his mouth and his fingers caressing the nape of his neck.

Heat ignited where the old man’s pads stroked his topmost vertebra and run down through his spine to finally center in his groin. The priest moaned into the other’s mouth as his prick started to get interested in the happenings. By Jashin, who would have thought of his partner that he could kiss like that? And he hardly looked really conscious of what he was doing...

Just when he was running out of breath, Kakuzu pulled back. Hidan gawked at him stupidly, his brain still trying to catch up with the happenings. He hoped against hope for some gratitude, but this was better than anything...

“Shiro,” the scarred fuckhead had the audacity to whisper again then, as he sighed, closed his eyes and _went back to sleep_.

“Who the bloody flying fuck are you talking about?!” the zealot demanded , but he received no answer. Kakuzu for all intents and purposes was lost to the world again.

Hidan took a deep breath and resisted the urge to tear out his own hair or pick up his sacrificial pike and run it through his partner’s remaining heart in frustration.

Whoever this Shiro guy was, he was going to find him and send him to Jashin-sama, he vowed. In bloody little million pieces.

 

 

_**TBC...** _

 


	10. A Lie

/*/*/*/

A persistent throb in his head woke him. The ache was dull but painful and annoying as hell, some invisible force hammering away cheerfully on his brain. It was worse like the harshest of hangover. His mind was fuzzy - a million of thoughts seem to swarm on the surface, but when he wanted to grab them they floated away, out of his reach.

Where was he? That seemed the most important question, but no matter how hard he racked his brain he couldn’t answer it. So he tried to recall his last memory. Where was he the last time he could remember of being?

Strangely he couldn’t answer that either. Wasn’t he with Shiro last night? No, that couldn’t be right - he was dead, killed by Hashirama Senju. The glassy look of death on his face, the blood in his hair - that burned too deep into his mind to ever forget. So was he in the prison of Konoha? The bed he was lying in contradicted that. Also, he recalled now, his escape and the way back home. Very sharply, like one of the lightning bolts that flashed through the sky that night, he remembered how he took the forbidden jutsu, how it transformed his body. The death of the elders, their chests torn open, his own fingers pushing through their sloppy insides, searching for their hearts...

He raised his arm and saw the stitches on it. That was definitely the reality, he didn’t dream it. It had happened, he'd really done it... But afterwards things became blurry. The news of Madara’s death. That first man he killed for bounty, the rich reward he got for his body. He could recall the weight of the suitcase filled with the banknotes and his own satisfaction. It had been a clean job- a task was named, he delivered it and got the agreed reward. No shifty business with honor or duty. He remembered countless men he killed after that, for the sake of money, although he hardly spent any of what he eared. If there was a face of an acquaintance he could bring up without any trouble, it was of his banker, the one he kept returning to depositing large sums of banknotes with him.

This went on...for how many years? He couldn’t tell.

His recent memories didn’t want to return no matter what effort he made to recall them. The last thing he knew of... someone telling him he fell off from somewhere and hit his head. He recalled a face now - silvery hair, violet eyes... but no, that couldn’t be. He remembered his death as if it happened yesterday, even though the little details about Shiro he used to hold dear were now vague. A laugh. A raised eyebrow. A kiss...

Dizziness hit him as he pushed himself to his elbows then further up, until he was sitting in the bed. Looking around he noted he was in a hut of some shorts. It must have been early dawn, with the first rays of sun just shining through the cracks of the planks and through the halfway drawn curtains covering a dirty window.

His heart skipped a beat when his eyes fell on the figure sleeping in a battered armchair. So he hadn’t been dreaming it... but how was that possible? He must have made some kind of a noise for those violet eyes opened and looked at him.

Kakuzu blinked. His eyesight was somewhat blurry, but of what he could see... there was no doubt. He could be no one else. _But how_?

“You’re alive,” he stated as flat as he could manage, trying to keep both wonder and accusation out of his voice.

“So you are,” Shiro replied, frowning, as he unfolded himself from the chair and walked up to sit on the edge of the bed.

“I saw you die.”

“Big deal,” he barked a laugh “I’m immortal.”

“There’s no such thing as immortality in this world,” he didn’t know where the words came from but he felt like he said them a hundred times.

“So you keep telling me.”

“Do I?”

“You don’t remember?” Shiro asked, leaning close. Kakuzu noticed that he didn’t look a day older than he remembered him to be. His mind tried to catch up with all that was happening, but the dull ache seemed to get in the way and slowed down his thinking. Sighing he gave up and focused on the present instead.

“I have the feeling I miss quite a lot. Why don’t you start to fill me in?” his words came out harsh, much harsher than he ever recalled speaking to Shiro, but he didn’t even seem to notice it. He was, now that Kakuzu took a closer look at him, somewhat different to what he remembered him to be. Mostly it was how he held himself - his pose was odd - his chin thrust up haughtily, his shoulders set back in an almost aggressive manner. He radiated confidence, or rather yet, arrogance and that was something he never associated with his lover. His _dead_ lover.

Kakuzu shook his head, trying in vain to grab some memory that kept swimming just below the surface of consciousness. He was sure he should know why Shiro was here and why was he different... if only he could just remember...

“What’s the last thing you can recall?” the silver-haired young man questioned, fidgeting on the bed as he tried to find a more conformable position. His hand touched Kakuzu’s slightly, and he had to resist the instinct to reach out and clasp it. But no, something was wrong and he had to find out what it was.

“Head-hunting,” he replied, waving an arm vaguely.

“That doesn’t tell me much,” his lover... ex-lover... whatever... snorted “as we’re doing it all the time.”

“We?” he asked back, surprised. “Listen Shiro. The last thing I remember of you is how you died by the hands of Hashirama Senju. Why don’t you tell me how come that you’re alive and with me now?”

Those violet eyes he could never forget looked at him steadily for an endless second. He couldn’t quite read the emotions behind them as he used to. They seemed more cruel, jaded... but the colour, the shape, that was the same. To chase away his own confusion he raised his hand and touched the corner of them with his fingertips. Shiro blinked and leaned into the touch. When he opened his eyes again he seemed more determined than before.

“That’s a long story Kakuzu, and you’ve just woken up from over a week spent in coma... Why don’t you rest, and I’ll fill you in on the details later,” with that he tried to push him down to lie back on the bed.

The ex-Takigakure ninja frowned at the elusive answer, but as he started to protest Shiro suddenly leaned in close and kissed him. He was all soft lips and sharp teeth and Kakuzu couldn’t help but return the gesture, his confused mind grateful for the moment when it could stop thinking and just go with the flow. When the other man tried to pull back he grabbed his arm and dragged him down with him on the bed. Passion flared in the violet eyes. So they were still lovers it seemed, whatever may had happened.

“At least tell me how are you still alive,” he demanded, gasping for breath.

“I...I was granted immortality by my god. Jashin-sama.”

“By your _god_?” he couldn’t really keep the disdain out of his voice.

“Don’t say it like that, you heathen bastard,” Shiro pulled back, obviously offended. “I am alive, it’s all that should matter to you. You should fucking stop insulting my religion,” he was breathing hard as well, with excitement or with indignation at his words, Kakuzu couldn’t tell. Inhaling deeply he continued calmer. “Rest now and maybe your memories will return on their own. All right?”

No it wasn’t all right at all, but Kakuzu felt too dizzy and fatigued to argue. He closed his eyes, trying to block out all the confusing thoughts running a mad race in his mind. Shiro. Immortality. Violet eyes becoming glassy in death... the same eyes looking at him with thinly veiled violence, lust and a thousand other emotions he couldn’t identify.

The solution, the answer for his doubts was right there, he'd just need to reach out for it... it was simple and would explain all...

He felt Shiro’s hand on his hair, smoothing it back from his forehead. The gesture put his mind at ease even as his consciousness screamed at him not to let the thought go, that he almost had it...

It can wait he decided, too fatigued to try to fight his own injured mind. He just needed sleep to clear his head. Upon waking he would remember all that mattered, he was sure of it. With that he slid into darkness.

  
/*/*/*/

  
Kakuzu was going to kill him. Even if he was immortal, the old bastard would be furious enough to find a way to do him in for good. Fuck. Why the fucking hell hadn’t he told him straight away that he wasn’t this Shiro guy he thought he was?

“Use your head or you will lose it,” hadn’t the masked miser told him this a thousand times? And here he was, playing along with his partner’s delusional fantasies because... because Jashin-sama’s hell would sooner freeze over before he’d have Kakuzu to look at him, when he _knew_ it was _him_ , like that.

With no hint of the usual contempt, animosity and general irritation of Hidan being... well, Hidan. This Shiro person - he must have been a great fuck to have the stitched son-of-a-bitch get so _mushy_ when he thought he was speaking to him. He could be pacified with a fucking kiss, for Jashin’s sake!

So all right, it was time to stop panicking and start to make plans for what to do when Kakuzu woke up again. He would open his eyes, glare at him and growl something along the lines of _“Hidan! You miserable idiot! I’ll make you pay...”_ then they would fight and he would beat him, but as he couldn’t do anything permanent to the priest, they would go back to normal, or whatever passed as normal for them.

But what if... what if he wouldn’t remember who Hidan was? What should he do then? Say “I’m not this Shiro you’re so obviously smitten with, but as kissing you was fucking huge turn on, let’s continue from there and you can shout at me later when your memory returns?” Yeah, that would work our spectacularly...

That left one possibility. If upon waking Kakuzu would still mistake him for that other guy, Hidan would just need to play along to get what he so craved for in the last couple of days. Sex, namely. Maybe even a bit of affection. Passion in those creepy red and green eyes, lust over something else than money.

He rushed to the bathroom, giddy with excitement over his new plan. He fished out the rusty shaving mirror from below a pile of damp towels he kept throwing into the corner in the last couple of days. He wasn’t one to keep his living space neat.

All right, he thought, checking out his own face. What did he know of this Shiro so far? He smirked at his reflection, thinking _he must have been one hell of a lucky motherfucker if he looked anything like me._

Because quite probably he looked similar. Which automatically meant that he was Kakuzu’s type, but no surprise there really, if only at how good the old bastard kept that in secret.

So what else, other than the likely physical similarities?

Well, the guy was obviously dead. Kakuzu said someone killed him, Hidan didn’t really remember the name. As he lived for almost a century there was no telling for sure when that could have been but if the priest's suspicion proved to be correct it was a long time ago. He just couldn’t imagine his partner hooking up with someone in recent years... or decades.

What if his appearance wouldn’t be enough to convince Kakuzu after all, he thought suddenly forlorn. Hidan knew that he wasn’t a good actor at all. He needed to think about what the miser liked... what kind of a lover would he take?

He knew what he disliked as he kept grumbling about it - he hated almost everything about Hidan. So he would go for the opposite, wouldn’t he? He’d choose a silent, cynic, atheist, boring bookworm... quite the same he was. One who wore a shirt buttoned up till the last hole. Hidan didn’t even own a shirt, but he could say that he lost it or something...

The difficult part would be in keeping silent, so he wouldn’t give himself away. This Shiro might have known things about Kakuzu’s past that he didn’t (which wasn’t saying much as he practically didn’t know a thing about it) so he could add elusive to silent. He’d need to swear less. Maybe he shouldn't mention Jashin-sama that much. His hand closed around the medal resting above his heart, offering a silent apology in advance to his god. But Jashin would be benignant with him, he was sure, he had been such a faithful follower, sending him all those sacrifices... And the end justified the means after all.

He spared one last glance at the mirror and grinned. It was decided. He was going to do it.

 

_**TBC...** _


	11. A Plan with Small Flaws

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last update for this year! Thank you for reading. Stay tuned for the continuation in 2013!

 

/*/*/*/

He was more lucid when he woke next time, more aware of his own surroundings, but unfortunately still without any recent memories. Shiro was by his side as he started to sit up, grasping his arms to support him.

Irritably he shrugged him off, though immediately felt a bit guilty for doing so. He had been alone for such a long time that he was now very hard pressed to endure the psychical closeness of someone else. At least he seemed to think he had been alone... his memories were sliding away and merging together and he couldn’t get them in a chronological order... In all recollection he had of himself after leaving Takigakure, he had been alone. Fighting for bounties, delivering for the black markets, piling up and depositing money - he was sure he had no partner for that. But Shiro said they were headhunting together. When had that changed?

His lover, if he indeed was that, obviously suffered from no doubts as his hand was on him again, sliding down to his lower back and resting there. Kakuzu felt vulnerable with that gesture - that was a vital spot where his five hearts could be reached with ease.

His five hearts? Suddenly he realized something was seriously wrong and it was more worrying than the lack of his recent memories. He closed his eyes, concentrating on his body, although he already knew he felt it correctly. All questions about this unexpected reunion were instantly pushed out of his mind. Shiro’s hand, the one not on his back, was sliding up his arm and he grabbed it roughly, feeling the bones grind together under his palm. The other hissed, though more in fury than in pain as far as he could tell.

“What the fuck...”

“Shut up,” Kakuzu snapped, unreasonably angry at the silver haired man. He relaxed his hold and tried more patiently. “Shiro,” he said as calmly as he could “what happened to my hearts?”

“I told you already, you fu...” a deep breath, then said with less aggression, “I told you already, _Kakuzu_. You had an accident - you fell off from a high cliff. You hit your head and lost four of your hearts. You were unconscious for over a week. I carried you here and took care of you.”

_Must have been some crash_ , Kakuzu thought. He wondered how on earth could it have happened - he wasn’t someone who just fell of from somewhere, but he guessed that question could wait. There were more important things that needed to be cleared.

“Shiro. Just when have we met again?”

“You could have thanked me, you know!” the other man snapped, and Kakuzu frowned at the non-answer. “I just told you I’ve been taking care of you - you could show some gratitude, rather than start bombarding me with questions!”

“Thank you,” Kakuzu said tersely. “But I not only have four non working hearts in my chest but damn _holes_ in my memory as well and I’d like to get both fixed as soon as I can. You are here, but when have we met again I don’t know. Start to fill me in.”

Shiro looked angry and the stitched man felt his muscles tense up, expecting an attack. Though that was ridiculous - his lover used to have quite firm self-control. Many things might have changed about him and between them, but there were attributes he considered fundamental. So he forced himself to relax and after a few seconds the other man looked calmer as well.

“A year ago or so,” he replied at last. “But don’t ask me the details,” he raised his hand when Kakuzu opened his mouth to do just that “it’s very long and complicated, and your memory will surely return soon. It wouldn’t do any good to overtax yourself - there’s that wound on your head still, after all.”

Kakuzu thought about that advice, deciding in the end to let things go for now - his head was throbbing painfully already after all. In case his memory wouldn’t return soon, he would pry the details from Shiro. His lover had been an expert on healing after all and could help...

The other man’s hands were caressing him again, soft palms sliding down on his arms, fingertips touching his scars lightly. It was relaxing and in the same time, even in his weakened state, arousing, so Kakuzu was somewhat reluctant to grab his hands again.

“Why haven’t you,” he demanded “healed this wound? Surely I wouldn’t have been unconscious for a week if you did.”

“Ah,” Shiro’s eyes flickered away guiltily “that I can’t fucking do. I, uhm... lost my healing abilities. It happened when,” he rose his voice when Kakuzu wanted to interrupt “I was revived by Jashin-sama. Yes,” he nodded as if to convince himself as well “I said already I was granted immortality by him. But there was a price, and it cost me that.”

Kakuzu started at him incredulously for a long moment. Then he just gave up making any sense of these things right then and there. So he laid back and sighed. He hoped like hell his memories would indeed return soon, because this was maddening.

“Why don’t you tell me,” he asked Shiro “about this Jashin then?”

“That I’m happy to do,” he grinned in obvious delight and Kakuzu relaxed against the pillows. He had to be comfortable with that for now it seemed.

 

/*/*/*/

“... the sacrifice. That’s very important, so you shouldn’t throttle or crush them as you’re bound to do. The blood should flow - it’s needed for the ritual and it pleases Jashin-sama,” Hidan looked down at his partner a bit sheepishly, realizing he got carried away, but he really wanted to make the best of the one and only occasion Kakuzu asked about his religion. He just had to fill him on in as many details as possible.

Well he didn’t have to worry of the heathen bastard noticing anything odd about “Shiro” as he was fast asleep. Hidan had the strong urge to kick him.

Bloody hell. He thought the old grouch would be more kind to his long lost and now found lover, but he was snarled at already a couple of times, his wrist had been crushed in Kakuzu’s iron grip and now he wasn’t being listened to when he was talking about his religion, just as usual - and the fucking patched up ragdoll had barely regained consciousness.

_Shiro probably committed suicide to be rid of you, you sour, disinterested old dick_ , he thought viciously. _You deserve everything I’ll do for you._

Keeping his more homicidal urges in check he decided to try to make a calm assess of the situation. Either Kakuzu had been almost as rude and violent with this Shiro guy as he was with Hidan, or deep down he knew who he was talking to. If it was the second, the priest had to act fast to achieve any of what he planned. He could just hope Kakuzu would be up to it, with the way he kept falling asleep.

He assumed it was still the aftereffects of the accident, as he refused to believe Jashinism would be that boring.

Enough of brooding anyhow he guessed and time to put things into action. He’d need to make sure that when Kakuzu woke up next he would be concerned with the closeness of Hidan... err... _Shiro_ and wouldn’t be thinking about all kind of difficult questions.

He wasn’t wearing much to begin with, so he practically just had to slip out of his pants to be completely nude. He threw them carelessly over the armchair. His forehead protector followed with greater care, though Jashin knew why he (and the rest of the Akatsuki for that matter) kept the thing. Last went his pendant. He kissed it reverently, offering a short prayer for his god and asking for forgiveness that he was taking it off at all, but it might got in the way, if things took the turn he wanted them to take.

With that he hopped onto the bed and squeezed into the narrow space that was left between Kakuzu and the wall. The older man stirred as he pressed close against him and his eyes opened to a sliver, showing those astonishing colours of red and green.

Raising a stitched arm he made space for the priest. Hidan smiled, as he threw his leg over those muscular thighs. He wanted to say something sexy to heat up the moment, but a huge yawn that he couldn’t hold back prevented him from doing so.

It wasn’t a surprise that he was sleepy - taking care of the sick was tiring as fuck, especially as he had to sleep in a chair the whole time. He’d just a rest a bit, to prepare his body for the big event, so to speak. Just half an hour... he would make sure to hold Kakuzu close through that time, to warm him up as well...

He fell asleep almost as soon as his head touched the bed and dreamt about himself delivering a sacrifice to Jashin-sama. He was in his blessed form, his skin pitch black with the white markings of a skeleton. When he looked down at his victim he saw it was Kakuzu, but that didn’t stop him from sinking his pike into his own chest - five times - until he kneeled over from the incredible feeling of ecstatic agony. As the dream shifted only a pool of blood remained in his god’s symbol. Hidan was on his hands and knees next to it, sobbing at his loss, hands clawing at the red patches on the ground. Jashin appeared to pat his head and tell him he did an excellent job. He had tanned skin and stitches running over his arms, and when Hidan gathered his courage to look up into his face he was swallowed in by the unnatural greenness of his eyes. The priest sobbed again and threw himself down at his feet...

He frowned in his sleep and burrowed deeper into the warmness of the bed, against Kakuzu’s side. His next dream was a considerably more pleasant one, where he was eating a big plate of perfectly prepared spare ribs. He tucked in with good appetite while the village of Yugakure burned cheerfully in the background. Later on he’d only remember this second dream.

 

_**TBC...** _


	12. The Best Defense Is A Good Offense

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hidan’s POV only, as he got…hmm… carried away…

 

/*/*/*/

 

When he opened his eyes he immediately knew he slept way more than half an hour. What worse, Kakuzu was not in bed with him. Hidan was occupying pretty much all of the narrow mattress as he lay on his stomach, legs thrown out in such wide angle that one was hanging off the edge. He had also been drooling, if the wet spot under his cheek was any indication. But what the worst was, how he managed to tuck the covers under himself, and was now hogging the ball of it with his arms and thighs.  
  
Damn it. Not that it was cold in the hut, but the bastard could have thrown something over him to cover his naked arse, as he laid there in such an undignified position.  He hoped that at least he took a good look at him.  
  
He peered around from under half-closed lids, but no, Kakuzu was not ogling him. He was up and - Hidan was disappointed to note - dressed in his trousers. He was holding his Akatsuki cloak and inspecting it with his head bowed over the bloody thing. The priest held his breath - would he remember anything from seeing that? He should have hidden those damn uniforms. He wished he could see his partner’s face, but it was that muscular, scarred and currently mask-less back that was turned towards him.  
  
Kakuzu threw the cloak down, and did something that Hidan at first couldn’t identify. It was only when he saw those weird threads squirming around him did the zealot realize that his partner opened up his own chest and, he assumed from his movements, was reaching inside.  
  
He was off from the bed in an instant, closing the distance between them in a giant leap. He forgot about his alias, forgot about sex, his sleepiness and everything else immediately. He wanted to see what was inside of the ex-Takigakure nin like for _ever._  
  
Man, was it a bizarre site. Most of the view was obscured by that tentacle-stuff wriggling out of the gash, and Kakuzu’s arm, which was indeed deep inside his own chest, but he could still catch a glimpse of two hearts - one beating steadily, but the other dead-looking and still, and all those threads moving inside like they had a will of their own, like worms or...  
  
“What,” the stitched man snarled “are you staring at?” He didn’t move his hand, but his expression wasn’t exactly welcoming Hidan to watch the show. He rather looked like he was a considering ripping his head off.  
  
“I just...” Hidan licked his lips, trying to find something to say that wouldn’t immediately blow his cover, like ‘ _want to reach inside you and grab a handful of those squirming tentacles or rather yet, tear one of your hearts out,’_ …thought you might need some help. You want to take those dead hearts out, don’t you? I wanted to get you new ones, but we are in the fucking middle of nowhere.” _Less swearing,_ he reminded himself, but altogether was satisfied with the reason he gave, made up on the spot as it was.  
  
“I don’t need your help,” came the gruff reply, though the tone was marginally kinder than before. Unfortunately however, Kakuzu pulled his hand out and the stitches closed up the gash. Hidan tried not to pout.  
  
“Are you feeling better?” he asked his partner, aiming to sound caring. The older man’s hand was bloody, he noted. He wanted to lick it off. Would it be like normal human blood?  He wanted to taste it then perform the ritual on Kakuzu. He wasn’t sure if his victims could feel his pleasure as much as the mutual suffering through the link he shared with them, he never thought of it before, but now he wanted to try it like he wanted nothing else. Jashin-sama would surely not mind him experimenting with the curse a bit… He wanted to see Kakuzu bleed. He wanted to see him claw the ground in agony. He wanted him to throw his head back and shout out his rapture as he came. He wanted him to look into his eyes with lust and need. He wanted to fuck him. He wanted to get fucked by him. He wanted all he fantasised about in this last week, sex and death and pleasure and pain for both of them and he wanted it _now._  
  
Kakuzu was looking at him, or rather at his hardening cock with a slightly amused expression and that reminded Hidan that he was naked. He took a step closer.  
  
“Shiro,” he could barely keep back a scowl hearing that name. He got carried away with all that _want_ and forgot who he was pretending to be.   
  
“Yes, Kakuzu?”  
  
He reached out and cupped Hidan’s face, but his expression was solemn and unreadable as always, not showing any gentleness. His eyes drilled into the priest’s, looking for answers so the silver haired man prepared himself for hard questions.  
  
“There’s so much I don’t remember,” Kakuzu said it more to himself than to Hidan from the sound of his tone. His thumb was caressing the zealot’s cheekbone in a pleasant but very distracting manner. “And so much time has passed, I guess. You have changed.”  
  
“Wh-what do you mean?” Hidan, who was leaning into the touch and was getting pleasantly lulled already, had to clear his throat as he dragged himself back into reality to focus on his words.   
  
Kakuzu took a step back, lowering his hand, taking away that wonderful caress. With eyes narrowed thoughtfully (and, the priest thought with his heart skipping a beat, suspiciously as well) he took a long look at him from head to toe.   
  
Desperately, quite sure that the other would uncover the trickery in any moment, he flung himself at him. Surprised, but relieved when he wasn’t immediately shrugged off he wove his arms around his neck. Kakuzu didn’t lean down even when he tugged on his long hair, so he had to step on tiptoes to kiss him, but at least that had the benefit of fitting their bodies close together.   
  
Kakuzu at first didn’t return the kiss, just let the priest nibble on his lower lip, but his resistance broke when Hidan pushed his tongue into his mouth He groaned and pulled the younger man closer, one hand on his nape, tousling his slicked back hair, the other on the small of his back. Hidan was dizzy with arousal already, so when those strong fingers tightened on his locks and forced his head back, he couldn’t repress a protesting whine.  
  
“Why,” Kakuzu growled, but from under half lowered lids his eyes burned with desire as he looked at the priest “do you try avoid talking? Tell me Shiro,” he commanded “what I’m missing. What happened. Why are you so different...”  
  
“Oh shut up, you prick,” Hidan snapped. The other man’s brows knitted furiously, but with his temper flaring up, the zealot decided to gamble and pushed further. Keeping silent was just not something he could do, he admitted to himself.   
  
“Do you think you’ve answered any of _my_ questions? That I ever got any reply when I asked why _you_ act like this or look like this?” His nails were scraping the stitches on the other’s arm and back, illustrating what he meant by _this._ “At best I got your fucking silence, but more often than not, you tried to rip my head off for it! Don’t you think _I_ was interested to know what the hell happened to _you?!_ ”  
  
He must have been convincing enough, as Kakuzu’s hold slackened on this hair. Well, it had to be convincing - it was the truth after all.   
  
He remembered very well the first time he’d seen the miser without his mask. He was shocked by those scars running from the corners of his mouth to ears, and might have not been very tactful when he’d asked about them. It was something along the lines of _what the bloody fuck happened to you? Did someone try to amputate your whole jaw?_  
  
Later on he’d been more careful questioning about the seams, but he never received an answer. Some of them were necessary for the creepy technique his partner used, but to have such an extent of them all over his body always seemed needless.  
  
He’d wondered if Kakuzu was sensitive about them, about his appearance, with the way he covered up himself from head to toe. Maybe he was _-_ it was worth remembering as a potential weakness. The old bastard didn’t have to know how fascinated he became by his looks.  
  
“You know,” he pressed on when Kakuzu opened his mouth to say something “I’ve accepted that’s how you are. Don’t you think you should also give me some fucking credit here? I’ve worried myself sick this week while you’re out cold, and now you’re picking at me, while you don’t even remember what...”  
  
Surprised, he fell silent when a calloused palm covered his mouth, altogether way more gently then he’d have expected it.  
  
“Shiro,” Kakuzu said, and Hidan had to hold himself back from biting down on his hand hearing that damned name again. “I know I have changed. If I didn’t tell you how and why, I suppose I must had good reason.” When Hidan scowled and opened his mouth to retort he pressed his palm harder down. Instead of sinking his teeth into flesh as he really wanted, the priest stuck out the tip of his tongue and licked. The stitched corners of Kakuzu’s mouth pulled up into an almost-smile.  
  
“Why don’t we make a deal Kakuzu?” he said at last a bit breathless, when his partner pulled his hand away. Licking someone’s palm was not supposed to be a turn-on, but fuck, he’d been so winded up, that even this made his cock twitch. He’d go barking mad if he didn’t get some relief soon.  
  
“A deal, Shiro?” his palm was slick with saliva and goose bumps rose on Hidan’s arm as he smoothed it down from his neck to his collarbone. Jashin help him, he craved for this monster of a man so much it made him _ache_ deep inside.  
  
“Yes,” his voice was hoarse. He couldn’t read Kakuzu’s expression but he thought - or hoped - that he saw the same want he felt reflecting in his strange eyes. “It goes like this: we share information for information... a secret for a secret.” That was a dangerous game to play, he knew very well, but the risk was worth if it meant he could crack the enigma that his partner was.  
  
While the other was considering his offer, Hidan’s hands started to live a life of their own, running down on Kakuzu’s muscled chest then lower, caressing his hipbone and hard stomach to finally slide under the brim of his trousers. He was stopped then, but at least not with an iron grip on his wrist but only with a touch on his arm.  
  
“I can hardly think your offer through, if you distract me like that,” Kakuzu stated, way too calmly in Hidan’s opinion.  
  
“Fuck thinking,” he growled, low and predatory “You think fucking too much all the time. I want you,” he palmed the other’s cock through his pants and was deeply satisfied when he thrust slightly against his hand “right now. You can _think_ later.”  
  
“Have you always been this horny?” Kakuzu asked dryly, but he was pulling Hidan close, a hand on his ass, the other in his hair again.   
  
“I’m sure I was,” he laughed breathlessly “I’m definite that I was never carved of wood, so I must have been always horny around you,” he chuckled again when Kakuzu made a pleased sound at that. _Are we vain, old man?_  
  
He was picked up in the next instant and carried to the bed like he was some fucking girl, but he could be indignant about it later, he decided. Rather, he grinned in delight. He was finally getting what he wanted. Thank Jashin.   

 

**_TBC…_ **


	13. A Same Yet Different Lover

/*/*/*/

_Stop thinking -_ that was easier said than done even under such circumstances. His mind burned with questions, even as he lowered or rather, dropped Shiro on the bed and lay on top of him, supporting his weight on his elbows. His thoughts raced in circles. _His lover's death. Madara. Escape from Konoha. Revenge on Takigakure. The transformation of his body. Living as a missing nin. Hunting men for money._ How did it continue? Where were the rest of his memories, the rest of his life? Why didn’t he remember still?   
  
Slender yet strong fingers pulled him down into a heated kiss that quickly turned into a battle of tongues and teeth. His lover pushed his erection against his hip, gasping, moaning into his mouth, then pulling his face back, biting down on the row of stitches running under his collarbone.   
  
Kakuzu growled deep in his throat. The pressure of pointy white teeth soon become painful but it just fuelled his arousal. _Had Shiro always been this wild and passionate?_ He pulled the other’s head back roughly by the hair and was rewarded with a hiss and sharp nails clawing his back. He caressed that beautiful neck and ignored his inexplicable urge to press down and break it.   
  
He tried to find in himself the gentleness and love he used to feel for this man but just couldn’t. So much time had passed - even without his memories, he was sure it had been long decades. After all, the scroll has promised him a very long life through the threads, through the extra hearts, and Shiro claimed he was now immortal, improbable as that sounded. They had both changed with time beyond recognition. This Shiro was not the boy and young man he once knew, but who was he to complain? He was hardly the same either. The Kakuzu he used to be died bit by bit in the prison of Hidden Leaf and by the treatment of his own village. What remained of his soul, he sold it for money over the years.  
  
Shiro’s legs were now around his waist, hips thrusting up rhythmically to grind his rigid length against Kakuzu’s stomach. His nails dig in painfully at the stitches on his back, so hard as if he wanted to tear them open. The ex-Takigakure ninja recalled the mesmerized way he started at his open chest when he was checking the damage the accident he couldn’t recall caused. This Jashin the silvered haired man started to follow after his incredible resurrection was a bloodlusty god, he remembered that much from the long monologue his partner delivered about his religion. Shiro, as now his devotee also seemed to develop a very violent side. Kakuzu couldn’t bring himself to feel any tenderness for this man, who for all intents and purposes was a stranger to him in his current state of mind, so different he was from the memory he kept of him. Still, the other didn’t seem to expect tenderness at all. He would be able to give him what he wanted - what they both wanted - he thought, if the frantic way the other moved against him was any clue.  
  
His old lover clung to him tightly and didn’t let go when Kakuzu rose up to his knees to roll down his pants, making the task difficult. Shiro’s arms wove stiflingly around his neck and he was panting in his ears half-formed words that he couldn’t make out. Still, the way his hot breath puffed against his skin was arousing, so the stitched shinobi was a bit reluctant to peer his fingers off and drop him back on the bed so he could undress properly. His partner growled something rude in protest. He looked wanton and good enough to eat as he lay there with his face flushed and his legs opened wide to accommodate Kakuzu between them.     
  
“So you’ve been taken care of me,” the ex-Takigakure ninja growled “what do you want in return now?”  
  
“Suck me,” came the reply without hesitation. Kakuzu shrugged off the irritation at hearing such direct order and decided to humor him. Shiro lifted himself up on his elbows to watch as Kakuzu bent over his crotch. He seemed to vibrate with excitement.  
  
At the first long lick on his cock he gasped, throwing his head back, showing his white neck that Kakuzu wanted to see bloodied as much as he wanted to caress. He turned his eyes away from it and concentrated on his task. He took the head into his mouth, hands fondling the base. They used to do it all the time, when they were young and... human, but now he felt somewhat out of practise. Still, with the way his lover arched his back and moaned _more_ and _fuck_ and _yes_ he found it easy to get back to the old patterns.  
  
He closed his eyes and found that he could even pretend they were still back in Takigakure, stealing secret minutes, ignoring Kokoro’s knowing smirks, sneaking off to liaisons no one should have known of...  
  
For a moment it was like all that came afterwards didn’t happen at all - the attack on Hashirama Senju, the deaths, the forbidden technique that transformed his body into this inhuman shell with the five hearts and threads inside, all those murders he committed for money he didn’t even spend...  
  
Then the spell of remembrance was broken as Shiro’s hips thrust up sharply and his hand clasped the back of his head, trying to force him to go down deeper on his erection. Though Kakuzu almost choked, in a way he was glad for the rough reminder of the things that have changed - he just wouldn’t know how to deal with the old Shiro who had been gentle and caring. This wild creature he had become suited him now much better.  
  
He clasped the bony hips to still them and released the cock from his mouth with a wet pop.   
  
“Try that again,” he grunted “and you’ll lose a hand, or,” he grasped his balls roughly when his lover growled a _fuck you_ in response “your prick. We go at my pace.”   
  
Shiro dropped back against the bed looking more annoyed than intimidated by the threat. His fingers now clutched the covers of the bed, but he was still thrusting up as Kakuzu bent over him again and swallowed his erection as far as he could.   
  
“Oh, _Jashin,”_ he gritted out “Kakuzu, fuck, _more..._ do it harder or fuck, yes, do _that_ again...”  
  
He smirked around this length, scraping teeth against it slightly. Shiro yelled out at that, arching off the bed and almost dislocating the other man from his position.   
  
“Stay still,” he commanded, raising his head again.   
  
“Fuck that,” came the reply “how could I? Get back to it Kakuzu, I’m so fucking close, _please_ you fucking bastard, let me come already...”  
  
He certainly hadn’t been this vocal or filthy mouthed back in Takigakure, but then, they always had to keep silent those days, so maybe he just didn’t know this side of his. Whatever the reason was, he now found the half-sensible rabble arousing. His own erection was just as hard and weeping as the one he sucked on so he doubled his efforts for making the other come. He wanted to tend his own need as soon as he could.  
  
Shiro was cursing and begging him in equal measures and his hand was back in his hair again, pulling on the locks and pushing his head down for more but now he was letting him, excited beyond caring himself.  
  
He felt it like a ticking of the inside of his cheeks and instinctively he let his threads burst out from there, wrapping them around the other’s length, adding pressure along the thick vein on the underside of it, and pushing them against the slit at the head. Shiro raised his head and their glances met - his lover’s eyes were opened huge with surprise and darkened to the deepest of purple with lust. Kakuzu extended more of his threads, from his mouth and from under his wrists, wrapping them around the other’s balls, his waist, tickling his taut stomach with their tapering end and that was all it took. Shiro was gasping and growling and thrusting roughly against the back of his throat as he came in long spurts. Though he never cared for the taste, Kakuzu swallowed. The bathroom was just too far away to get up to spit it out - he wanted to find his own release _now._  
  
He crawled up along the other’s now languid body to straddle his shoulders. Shiro lifted his head rather reluctantly when he urged him to, and he pushed into his mouth none too gently. Fingers grasped his arse and thighs as he balanced himself against the wall and the headboard. He started to move, fast and impatient, feeling his own climax impending quickly. His lover growled something incomprehensible, sending vibrations along his length and with that he lasted only a few thrusts. He gritted his teeth to keep silent as his orgasm hit.   
  
His knees were somewhat shaky as he rolled off to slump bonelessly on the bed. Shiro was coughing and wiping his mouth with his arm.  
  
“I swear Kakuzu,” he whined “that your spunk just came back through my nose. Eww... Fuck, that’s...”  
  
“Don’t be vulgar,” he frowned.  
  
“It was the most awkward angle...”  
  
“Do you ever shut up?” Still, he was too sated to put any real annoyance behind his words. The other obviously felt it as well, as he lay back next to him on the narrow mattress, one hand caressing the scars on his stomach, then raking his fingers through his pubic hair. He chuckled in his ear.  
  
“What’s so funny, Shiro?”  
  
“Oh, you will see when your memory returns, Kakuzu.”  
  
He left it at that. Letting his body rest, his mind went back to the puzzle of his missing memories. To the usual rounds of death-Konoha-Madara-Takigakure-kinjutsu-headhunting. As that brought no more solution than before he thought of what happened since he regained consciousness.  
  
This strange Shiro, who wasn’t the Shiro he once knew at all, wasn’t he the key? Violent, lusty, voluptuous, filthy-mouthed, bigoted, yet still irresistible Shiro... The same looks with a different personality. How could have they met again? Those two identical black cloaks with the red clouds...They looked like some kind of a uniform, it certainly wouldn’t have been his own choice of clothing... They triggered something in the hazy mist of his mind, where he was sure the memories lay, waiting for him to reach out and make sense of them. The answer was there just under the surface of his consciousness, if only he could grab it...  
  
 ** _TBC…_**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is certainly the longest blow-job scene I ever wrote. I’m feeling ridiculously proud of it. Hope you enjoyed. I plan to post the last few chapters chapters pretty quickly – this story is now finished, I’m just editing and fiddling with the rest.


	14. End of the Game

/*/*/*/

  
  
Lying on his side, Hidan was drifting in and out of slumber. Wasn’t it the best of things, snuggling close to Kakuzu after sex, sated yet waiting for more?   
  
Who would have thought of the old miser that he could give head like a pro? If he wanted to be cruel, he’d say that with the way he was a whore for money... but right now he wasn’t feeling _that cruel._ Probably it was just a century or close to that experience.  
  
As for Hidan - he didn’t really had that much of a practice as he preferred way more to shove _his_ prick down someone else’s throat and not the other way round. It wasn’t in the plans to do it for Kakuzu either, but the aggressive old bastard didn’t stop to ask for permission... All in all the priest didn’t mind it that much - though the taste was vile and it did come back through his nose, seeing Kakuzu in the throes of passion made up somewhat for the discomfort. He loved how his partner didn’t look any less savage in orgasmic bliss. And that trick with the threads when he was sucking Hidan off, wow... Though it might have been scary had he not been so obsessed with the weirdness of the other’s body. But weirdness was a good thing in his book, he acknowledged with a smirk.  
  
Feeling himself stirring already when replaying the previous events in his mind, he glanced up to his partner. He expected him to be asleep, but despite his stillness and even breathing his eyes were open. There was a thoughtful frown on his face, and the Jashinist’s insides clenched seeing it. Kakuzu pondering over a riddle didn’t bode anything good in the current situation.  
  
It wasn’t an expression one should wear after sex. It was more fit for crouching next to a shogi board. Hidan knew that his partner was a good player - he’d seen him match a few times against other Akatsuki members and winning more often than not. As for himself, he hated the game - thinking and rethinking tactics was bloody boring. He believed in charging ahead boldly. Mindlessly, his partner would say, but if one was immortal, scheming just seemed a waste of time.  
  
So he decided to do that now as well. He let his hand slip from Kakuzu’s pelvic bone where it had been resting to his flaccid penis. The stitched man grunted in surprise as he tugged gently on the soft skin and made a move as if to shrug him off. When he changed his mind and slid his palm down on Hidan’s arm instead, the priest had to hide his grin of victory.  
  
“I see you’ve woken up,” Kakuzu's voice was way too even for someone who was having his dick stroked, but Hidan wasn’t discouraged by it - he had seen him passionate and would again he was sure.  
  
“Oh, not yet,” he chuckled “but I’ll, pretty soon,” he grinded his hips against the other’s side to demonstrate what he meant.  
  
For a few minutes he worked silently on getting both of them ready for round two. It took considerably longer for Kakuzu than for himself - Hidan was fucking horny again about instantly - but he bit his lips and tried to be patient with the old man. When he finally started to thrust into his grip he felt like winning a race.  
  
He rolled on top to rub their dicks together. Kakuzu was looking up to him with hooded eyes and Hidan held his gaze as long as he could. At last he had to throw his head back as a low moan escaped his lips. The other man’s hand was on his neck in an instant, thumb pressing down forcefully under his chin, painful yet exciting at such a vulnerable spot, then stroking down, flexing against his adam's apple, finally laying out all his fingers against his throat. It was a threat as much as it was a caress - he knew well enough the power of the other’s grip. All it would take Kakuzu to close his fingers for the priest’s windpipe to break.  Hidan was thrilled with the knowledge, even as his own digits bended to press into the scars on Kakuzu’s shoulders, hard enough that blood seeped into under his nails.  
  
With that the slow pace, the almost-gentleness was gone. The older man’s muscles flexed and he turned them over, lifting Hidan as if he weighted nothing. The zealot cursed and bit the other’s hand when it was pushed against his mouth to silence him. His nails dig in harder, trying to tear the stitches open, wanting to reach inside to grasp Kakuzu’s heart and _squeeze._ He only managed to snap a thread though, and his wrists were clasped and pushed up above his head, so he gripped the headboard as a poor substitute.   
  
He wove his legs around the other man’s waist, pushing his weeping erection against his stomach, trying to get friction. He felt Kakuzu’s heavy cock against the cleft of his arse and shuddered in anticipation. Two fingers were pushed against his lips.  
  
“Get them wet,” came the command and he did, sucking on them and biting down hard until they glistened with both saliva and blood. When Kakuzu pulled them away to circle his hole, he felt his whole body tremble with somewhat fearful expectation. It was a good thing he was playing Shiro, as otherwise he’d might just confess that he’d never let anyone else fuck him before, and he certainly didn’t want his partner to know _that._ Still, he wanted it, the pleasure and the pain, wanted to give in to the older man, just as much as he wanted to turn the tables and have _him_ at his mercy.  
  
But that would be for another occasion, so he took and deep breath to relax his muscles and looked into those unnaturally green eyes. Still, he couldn’t hold back an undignified mewl as the fingers slowly sank into his hole. Kakuzu stretched him less roughly than he expected, moving his digits in to the roots than out to the tips, scissoring them until he was thrusting his arse back against them and fucking _begging_ for more.   
  
_More_ was just a bit too much he found, when Kakuzu lined up his prick and pushed slowly into his clenching passage.   
  
“Oh, Jashin...bloody hell, you... oh, _fuck_ ,” he gasped incoherently, then all but screamed when the other pulled out almost completely just to slam back in forcefully, going as deep as it was humanly possible. “Fuck, you bastard,” he squirmed, but there was no getting away with the way the other’s hands were pushing him down. The next few thrusts were slightly more bearable. Then Kakuzu lifted his backside higher up and with the new angle he hit a spot inside him that had Hidan’s eyes flew open and yell out “ _Jashin!”_ this time in pure pleasure.   
  
“Fucking hell,” he gasped as that spot was hammered again and again. Kakuzu’s hand wandered down his torso and below, to wrap his fingers around his neglected cock. “ _Jashin,”_ he moaned again, feeling over stimulated. The next instant his partner stopped all his movements.   
  
“Would you stop saying that?” he snapped.  
  
“Oh fuck, _Kakuzu,_ fucking move, damn you!”   
  
He did so, more slowly this time. His lids were halfway lowered but beneath them his vivid green, usually cold eyes burned with emotions. Passion yes, and more, that the zealot couldn’t really identify. Hidan reached out to cup his face, that look sending a bolt of pleasure through his spine, followed immediately by the cold realization that it wasn’t meant for him, but for bloody _Shiro._ He suddenly desperately wanted the other to look at him like that and to know it was him.  
  
“Kakuzu...” he started tentatively, not sure what he wanted to say.  
  
“Just... shut up,” the other growled, speeding up his thrusts again, slamming into him forcefully and deep enough to have his balls slap against the priest’s arse and tugging on his cock urgently. Hidan shook his head. He was so bloody close, yet he craved for more, but more of what, he couldn’t tell.  
  
“Kakuzu, please,” he moaned again, closing his eyes.  
  
“I said shut up, _Hidan_ _!_ ”   
  
He gasped and his eyes snapped open. His partner was looking at him and yes, he recognised the anger in his glare now, not just the passion, but it didn’t matter as he was seeing _him_ and that was enough... His whole body shuddered as he came, the word greying out for a moment, as he splattered both of their chests. He was still gasping for air and trying to make sense of what just happened, when Kakuzu pulled out of his arse abruptly.   
  
Ignoring the priest’s pained moan he grabbed his hips and turned him on his stomach then pulled him back to his knees before slamming back in. It was done so fast that Hidan couldn’t have protested even if he wanted to. As he was he just let the other carry on, his body feeling boneless and his mind blissfully blank. Kakuzu lasted a few more thrusts before he climaxed as well, grunting something like “bloody idiot” as he pushed his hard length deep into Hidan’s arse for the last time and held still.   
  
The zealot thought he should probably shrug him off now and make a leap for his scythe as he had an inkling what was to follow. Facing the wrath of the other Akatsuki unarmed was not a good idea. Still, he remained motionless, head hidden between his arms as Kakuzu pulled out, leaving him feeling somehow empty, and sat back on the bed. For an endless minute both were silent. Hidan thought that he could hardly be in a more humiliating position than this, lying on his stomach, arse stuck up in the air, with Kakuzu’s come dripping down his thigh. But then he felt a strong grip in his hair, pulling his head back and realized that yes, it could get even worse. He tried to return the glare of the red-green eyes with as much cool dignity as he could muster.  
  
“So, you bloody little moron,” Kakuzu shook him slightly, like he was a fucking pup who just peed on his expensive carpet “what’s your excuse?”

 

**_TBC…_ **


	15. Making a Decision

/*/*/*/

  
  
They named it the Valley of the End. Call it superstitiousness, though it really wasn’t something he was guilty of, but Kakuzu never visited when Hashirama Senju had been still alive. But here he was now, watching the two giant stone statues illuminated by the early morning light.   
  
If rumours were true, it was the First Hokage himself who ordered them to be carved out of the mountains. Kakuzu smirked. That would mean the man had quite an egoistic side, erecting such a memento of himself. On the other hand there was the statue of Madara as well - the same height as Senju’s he noted. The Uchiha would be pleased, he thought.  
  
He climbed the huge figure of the Hokage and sat down on its head. The sound of the waterfall had a pleasantly lulling effect on him. It’s been years since he heard one.   
  
_I vowed to be alive even when both of you have already died_ , he thought. That happened much sooner than he’d have anticipated it. The two greatest ninjas of their time, but then, greatness was often sealed by an early death. Kakuzu preferred to remain in the shadows, but live long.   
  
For a long time he remained motionless, watching the stone face of his once tormentor. Was the passion worth it, Madara? To burn, to hate, to love so much? To be known and feared, to be remembered by generations to come, yet to die young? Had Hashirama cared for you less, were you not like this? Did he care for you at all? The statues suggested so, but maybe he’d been wrong all along and misinterpreted their relationship.  
  
He concentrated on the steady beating of his five hearts. He’d chosen well, to have his revenge on his village, in becoming his own master, in choosing a long life, an almost-immortality. He didn’t need emotions for that. Just look at what happened when shinobi let themselves _feel._ They might change the whole landscape where they fought beyond recognition, but in the end they’d end buried six feet underground.   
  
He left the valley, only turning back for one last look from the edge of the surrounding forest. The founders of Konoha belonged to the past now, along with Kakuzu’s dead friends, his lover, all those people he’d killed for revenge or money. It was pointless to waste another thought on them.  


/*/*/*/

  
  
Madara again... Kakuzu sighed, irritated that his thoughts kept wandering back to him ever since they’d left that damned hut. Not that he received any peace of mind, thinking about him.  
  
Those few days after he regained his memories were... _awkward_. Hidan kept circling him like a fly around a piece of meat left out in the sun, never getting far from him, but still, keeping an arm-length distance. Even though arm-length was a relative phrase when Kakuzu was concerned, he let him at it. He had more pressing matters than fending off a horny, idiotic, deceiving Jashinist, like getting four hearts urgently.

Maybe he kept remembering Madara as he tried to avoid thinking about Hidan. After the… _act_ he questioned the little shit, demanding an explanation, an excuse… and wasn’t surprised at all when the zealot didn’t had _any_. The impeachment rapidly degraded into shouting, though what right _Hidan_ had to shout for was a mystery. From the argument came the inevitable beating, which ended with Kakuzu pinning the miserable cheating idiot to the bathroom door with thrusting his own pike through his worthless heart. Then he dressed as calmly as he could and left the hut without a backward glance.

Hidan of course caught up with him in ten minutes and tried to act as if nothing out of the ordinary happened. Kakuzu wasn’t fooled. He saw the nervousness in those cursed violet eyes.

He decided to delay further punishment until he managed to get back his body to the usual level of secureness. Then, as the days passed by it started to seem ridiculous to beat him for tricking Kakuzu into fucking him. He’d rather just pretend the outrageous episode didn’t happen at all. Stirring up the past was bad enough - he wanted to be done and over with the whole thing.   
  
He admitted, though only to himself of course, that he couldn’t blame Hidan alone for what had happened. Hadn’t he known, all along, that there was something wrong with “Shiro”? He hadn’t done his hardest to discover his secret, had he?   
  
Not to mention when his moment of clarity came he _could have_ stopped, never mind that he was right about to shove his cock up his annoying partner’s ass. Kakuzu had firm enough self-control to stop then and there - but he didn’t. He went along, screwed him, made the idiot came and found his own climax as well. Wouldn’t it be a tad hypocritical to complain after that?  
  
He even knew why he did it. This was something he wouldn’t have confessed to his partner for any money in the world - but he’d wanted him for some time. Not just because of his physical similarity with Shiro, though that was part of it surely. No - he had wanted Hidan for himself as well, incredible as it was. It probably meant that it wasn't only his hearts that had to be changed from time to time, but his brain as well. After more than ninety years it was no wonder it started to dysfunction. He was obviously going mad.  
  
He snorted angrily, which made Hidan - who was sitting just out of _arm-length_ again, though leaning in towards Kakuzu what passed as unobtrusive in his little Jashinist word - scooting back quickly. The masked man didn’t even spare him a glance.  
  
They’re sitting by a campfire set for the night, after a taxing fight with two relatively strong ninjas, this time not for bounty, but for their hearts. The extra organs made Kakuzu feel more secure, though he still needed two more. Back in the hut he’d been tempted for a moment to take Hidan’s, but he was afraid that the idiot wouldn’t even feel its loss and continue as if nothing happened... and really, the priest didn’t own any strong Ninjutsus that would have made his heart desirable.   
  
He frowned at how that sounded even in his own mind, and stared into the flames in silent fury. He wished to be alone, as he had been all those decades. He hadn’t known he was signing up for _this,_ when he joined the organization. But here he was, stuck with the bloody cretin, just as he had been since leader-sama’s brilliant idea of getting him a partner that couldn’t die.   
  
He remembered very well the first time they’d met. He hadn’t been happy to begin with that he was assigned a new partner again, despite how often he stressed that he’d rather work alone. That it was unnecessary to force someone on him once more, that they’d be just another casualty for the Akatsuki soon. He should have been more suspicious when Pein actually _smiled._  
  
He’d become even more gruff when he found his new partner looked so similar to his long dead lover. Then downright furious when it turned out that their personalities were the complete opposite. Hidan had started their acquaintance with an introduction on basic Jashinist believes, threatening Kakuzu with sacrifice when it became obvious he thought his whole religion ridiculous.   
  
But the real cold shower just came afterwards. He endured the zealot for about three hours after they’d left the hideout, before he slammed him against a jagged stone wall, leaving only a bloody mess where the back of his head used to be. He wasn’t prepared for him standing up and complaining that his hair got dirty. Or for his attack the next instant. Nor did he anticipated that he would, even when he was on the ground again, and the masked man run his own scythe through his heart, laugh and spit blood at him. That later on he’d demand Kakuzu to clean and sew his cloak as he got it torn and dirty.  
  
Maybe he should have followed Orochimaru’s example then and disappeared from the Akatsuki, but that would have looked like running away from Hidan, and damn him, Kakuzu was there first. He liked the organization, had some respect for the other members, and was satisfied with his extra role as the treasurer. That had given him some purpose, something he was desperately lacking by the time he joined. _Belonging to_ somewhere was still a thing he missed it seemed, even after more than half a century after leaving his village. That it was a criminal organization where the members mostly just felt distrust or at the best grudging respect to each other was irrelevant. After all, he’d been living off the black markets and taking on even the dirtiest jobs if they paid well for decades. The only thing he was not happy with was this idea that two-man teams functioned the best. Meeting the others every half a year or so would have been enough for him.  
  
When he received complains for killing five of his partners in a relatively short period of time, he just told the leader that he was doing them a favour. Someone who wasn’t strong enough to stay alive when sparring against another member was better out of the organization.   
  
He didn’t know how they found Hidan, or how Hidan found the Akatsuki as he claimed it happened. He wasn’t really strong, but indeed, Kakuzu couldn’t kill him, so he stayed. With that the older man was forced to do something he’d avoided since he left his village - he had to work together with him and thus, had to get to know him, if even just a bit. Someone you know, you were bound to start having feelings for - even if it was mostly animosity, irritation and anger. At first at least. After a year or so, came the weakest sense of _caring,_ though they both pretended otherwise up till now...  
  
Hidan shifted again, inching just a bit closer, dragging Kakuzu back to the present. Sending a withering glare at the priest to ensure he’d keep his distance, the ex-Takigakure nin laid back against the trunk of the tree he was sitting under and tried to decide how to go on from here. It was obvious that Hidan wanted to continue what they’d started in the hut and part of Kakuzu wouldn’t have minded it either... Still, that would look like giving in to the idiot, and the stitched man had always made a point of not doing what his partner wanted.  
  
Wasn’t that childish, he wondered, and more so, wasn’t he just making his own life harder needlessly? Mostly he’d been angry at Hidan for reminding him of his old life, what he thought he’d left behind long ago, once and for all, but the priest didn’t belong to the past. He was very much the present, and maybe, just maybe he’d be with him for a short while in his future. Would that be so terrible? To have someone by his side, who he - well, definitely not trusted, but at least knew? To admit finally that it wasn’t that bad, to have a partner after such a long time alone?  
  
He sighed, thinking that tearing Hidan to pieces and burying him in a ditch somewhere would be probably way less tiring and on the long term more pleasing than continue to have him by his side. He felt those violet eyes boring into him, but he refused to look over at him. Seeing that face would just confuse him now. He wanted to decide what to do. Remain or leave the Akatsuki to start a new life once more? His mind wandered back to Madara again, though he knew that comparing this _relationship_ he had with Hidan, to the connection between the founders of Konoha was rather overweening.  He watched the fire till it burned down to embers. Hidan was lying on his side, snoring softly, one hand clutching his ridiculous scythe close to his chest like a child would do with a stuffed animal by the time he came to a decision.  
  
He was too old for running away. He was probably too old for taking an insane Jashinist as a lover as well, but hell - life got boring after a while anyway. He just _knew_ he would regret it a million times but he would give the little shit a chance.

 

**_TBC…_ **


	16. Acceptance

/*/*/*/

  
  
He kept watching the old miser out of the corner of his eyes for days. He was silent, just as usual, and obviously tense ever since the… err... _Shiro incident._  
  
Hidan couldn’t say that he regretted what he did. Hell, no - it was worth all consequences a thousand times... were there any consequences, that is, but they just didn’t come. After a while he really got concerned about why Kakuzu _wasn’t_ beating him up yet. He actually wished they’d get over with his punishment - then this disturbing tension would be gone, and they could get back to normal.  
  
No, fuck that. He didn’t want what passed as normal for them. He got a taste for more, and he liked it.   
  
That night when Kakuzu finally managed to stock up a bit on his hearts he decided he’d given enough space for the stitched bastard. So when he woke up and found those unfathomable red-green eyes watching him, he plastered on his most shit-eating grin, the one he knew irritated his partner to no ends, and jumped head first into whatever may come.  
  
“Say, Kakuzu,” he drawled the other’s name, dragging out each syllable “what’ya say? Is the deal still on?”  
  
“What deal?” the other barked. His eyes followed Hidan as he stood up, stretched and walked up to him, but otherwise he remained impassive even when the priest dropped down next to him, close enough for their sleeves to brush.  
  
“You know... that we share information for information, a secret for a secret. I’ll tell you something of my past and you tell something from yours in exchange.”  
  
“You’re what? Twenty?” Kakuzu snorted as if living two decades only was ridiculous even to mention. “You hardly have a past yet. As for your secrets - I doubt that you have any that I’d care to know.”  
  
“You stuck-up bastard,” Hidan pouted, feeling affronted, yet the same time welcoming the banter. “I’ve all kind of interesting secrets, I’ll let you know. Don’t you wanna know how I received my immortality from Jashin-sama for example?”  
  
“Not particularly,” the older man’s tone was mild, and though Hidan couldn't read his expression with his mask covering most of his face, he could see that his customary frown was missing. His eyes... they seemed almost amused.  
  
“You know what, you dick?” the priest leaned against him slightly, experimentally. When he wasn’t immediately shoved away he grinned even more widely and relaxed. “I’ll tell you about it anyway. Even an old heathen bastard like you might find it illuminating.”   
  
“Hidan...” the priest ignored the warning in the other’s deep growl and plunged into his story. When he was at a particularly thrilling part of how he had to defeat the leading priest of the temple to drink his blood, he unobtrusively slid his palm up Kakuzu’s thigh and the other let him.  
  
“...so Jashin-sama granted me his greatest gift and I became as you know me now.” His voice was hoarse with emotions and excitement at recalling the most sacred moment of his life. Kakuzu was looking at him like he lost his marbles though, so he cleared his throat and continued on a lighter tone. “So it’s your turn now. Tell me something of you that I haven’t known yet.”  
  
“You’re very persistent, aren’t you?” Kakuzu sighed. “Here you are, I’m sure you haven’t heard this before. When I joined the Akatsuki, my first partner was a very talkative guy. I killed him by tearing up his throat and pulling his tongue out of the hole.” Shrugging off Hidan’s touch, he stood up. “Now get your things and let’s go.”  
  
“Are you hinting at something?” the zealot asked with suspicion. “Here I tell you the most determinative event of my life and you return it with telling such a shitty secret? It wasn’t a proper secret at all, as it wasn’t anything I haven’t presumed of you... Hey, Kakuzu, don’t turn your back on me when I’m talking... Kakuzu, you asshole, don’t leave me here...fucking wait, let me get my scythe... _Kakuzu!”_  


/*/*/*/

  
He hid his smile behind his mask. Was he going soft? Maybe it was the sign of age... Or maybe it was his surreal trip down memory lane, but he didn’t find Hidan as irritating as he _knew_ he was. He vowed to never let the little idiot realize it, as he’d surely become even more intolerable.   
  
Getting back to their old patterns was surprisingly easy. The priest’s rambling broke the awkward aura. That day passed almost pleasantly, with Hidan alternatively telling stupid stories of his life or being offended when Kakuzu just replied with something trivial - if at all.    
  
It was by late afternoon when the zealot couldn’t take it anymore and cracked. He attacked with a shout, swinging his scythe at him. The older man blocked it with ease, tearing the weapon from his grip and throwing it away. When Hidan leaped after it he let his arms detach themselves and dragged him back by his scruff. The extendable pike the other drew managed to tear up his cloak before it was twisted out of the idiot’s hand.   
  
By the time Kakuzu grabbed his neck firmly and pushed him against a tree, high enough that only his toes touched the ground, Hidan was already hard, he could feel it against his hip. Though he was red in the face and gasping for air, his fingers were fumbling with unzipping the older shinobi’s cloak. Kakuzu would have been amused at how _easy_ he was, but his own blood also boiled with the tension of the past days, with lust and aggression.  
  
Easing off the pressure so he could breathe properly, the masked shinobi let Hidan open his coat and pants and reach inside. Although he was aware that they’re just off the road and anyone could happen on then, with the priest’s soft palm sliding firmly up and down on his length, he stiffened in no time. Hidan shrugged out of his pants and Kakuzu hiked up his cloak, gripping his firm ass and sliding his fingers between the cheeks.   
  
It was different this time, with him aware of the priest’s identity, and not even pretending otherwise, with no shadows of past between them. Hidan didn’t try to gloss over his violent side at all, and Kakuzu, well aware of the other’s taste for blood, be it his own or someone else’s, didn’t hold back either.   
  
The priest’s fingers clawed his neck and face, grasping and tearing his hood and mask off. His hands clutched his hair as it tumbled free, twining the long locks around his fists and pulling on them hard. Kakuzu pushed him more firmly against the tree, his grip closing down on the his white neck again, wanting to bend his fingers in and tear out his windpipe for all his misdeeds just as much as he wanted to turn him over and fuck him until he begged for mercy.   
  
As he eased his hold a bit, still undecided which one to do, Hidan gasped, clasped his arms around his neck and all but climbed him, locking his legs around his waist, letting the taller ninja support his weight. That decided it. The Jashinist growled low in his throat when Kakuzu hiked him higher up then slowly lowered him onto his cock.   
  
Hidan’s body gripped him tight enough to be painful, but that didn’t stop either of them. With Kakuzu standing up and Hidan clinging to him, the stitched ninja’s thrusts were slow but deep. The priest’s thighs were like a vice around his waist as he snarled and cursed at every push, yet meeting his movements with his own.   
  
When the masked man drew him closer and hit his prostate with the new angle, he went wild. Muffling a shout of pleasure with biting down painfully hard on his shoulder, his nails raked Kakuzu’s chest. He ripped the shirt he was wearing and reached under, coming to halt when he found the stitches under his collarbone. His fingers drew blood as they tried to press in under the seams, doing his best to tear the gash open.  
  
Kakuzu grunted angrily and pushed the violent little idiot against the trunk of the tree. Hidan spat obscenities as he held his hand down and started to thrust into him more roughly. Then the next instant he was begging him, moaning _Kakuzu_ and _please,_ between gasps of _Jashin_ and half-formed curses.  
  
“What do you want, Hidan?” Kakuzu asked him, stopping his movements.  
  
“ _More,_ you fucking bastard, please... oh hell, I want to see, fucking move, and open up, I want your threads, _Jashin, please_...”  
  
His words were hardly coherent, but Kakuzu still understood what he meant. Grunting in surprise and with the effort of balancing a squirming Jashinist he opened up a few of his stiches, on his chest and arms.  
  
The threads burst forward, wrapping around Hidan’s chest, pulling him tight against his body then they slithered up, around his neck like a collar, into his hair, tousling the slicked back locks. The priest’s eyes were opened wide and glazed over with excitement. He snatched at the tentacles slithering on the side of his face, trying to bite down on them.  
  
Kakuzu let his threads act on their own, interweaving their bodies so close together until there was hardly any space left between them. His appearance, deformed as it was for long decades, served a purpose. He looked as he did as that was the cost of staying alive. To be powerful, someone not to be trifled with. He’d never met anyone who was so fascinated by the inhuman aspects of his body like Hidan, though of course hardly anyone had to chance to get to know it, and survive.   
  
He usually kept himself covered during any intercourse, whenever the urge became too strong to resist, though generally he wasn’t one with a huge sex drive. Ever since letting the kinjutsu transform him, his body was for fighting, a weapon that helped him win and a tool that enabled him to survive long years and tough battles. To have someone -insane, filthy mouthed Hidan of all people - find it so obviously arousing should have been disturbing. Still, he only felt excitement, watching the other wriggle in his hold.  
  
The priest turned his head to bite along the stitches on his face, warm, pink tongue trying to push through in between them. Nonsense spilled from his mouth, muffled against his cheek, _Jashin_ and _Kakuzu_ and _fuck_ and _more_ without any coherence.   
  
Kakuzu growled as he started to move again, threads now weaving around the silver haired man’s thighs, circling his cock and squeezing it. The priest tried to free his hands from his grip, then giving up he just threw his head back and let Kakuzu slam into him with increasing speed and force. It didn’t take long and he yelled, pushed down, impaling himself deeper on the other’s length as he came. The ex-Takigakure shinobi closed his eyes as he continued to thrust into his lover’s dropping body until he reached his peak as well.  
  
For a minute or so he continued to hold Hidan, before he drew his threads back and stepped away. The priest slid down to the ground as he let him go. Titling his head back, he grinned up to Kakuzu.   
  
“If I’d known you’re ready to do this without all that pretending, we could have done this ages ago. Why...”  
  
“Shut up, Hidan,” Kakuzu warned, though his voice lacked the usual threat, he could hear that. “Don’t push your luck.”  
  
Quickly he did up his clothing and went ahead, ignoring his partner’s shouts for wait for him. He’d catch up with him soon anyhow. He was ready to accept Hidan as Hidan, without any shadows of the past interfering, but that didn’t mean he needed to be any kinder to the idiotic Jashinist.   
  
They were how they were. Both of them more monsters than men, firmly believing in only what they deemed important. It was a wonder how the other fitted into this at all, but it seemed they did. Shiro or anyone else from the past just didn’t have to do anything with the present. Not at all.

 

**_One more chapter to go!_ **


	17. Epilogue - A Few Months Later...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’re here, it means you’ve reached the last chapter of Path to Darkness. Thank you for reading! Reviews are loved and cherished!

 

/*/*/*/

  
  
Becoming Kakuzu’s lover had some benefits, but altogether, their relationship didn’t change much from before. They still argued, fought over about everything, from the most everyday things, like what to eat (cheap rice versus a nice, juicy barbecue), to fundamental questions. For example how the old bastard’s soul would never receive salvation if he continued to refuse giving up on his material view of life. Jashinism was the perfect solution, but of course Kakuzu never gave shit of what Hidan said. He went as far as calling his religion “made-up” and “mindless”, something he was angry about for days. He just wanted the best for the heathen bastard, but of course never received any thanks for his effort.   
  
Kakuzu was still a closed up, cynic asshole most of the time. Hidan kept trying to pry some personal information out of him, but it very rarely worked. He didn’t seem much interested in the priest’s life either, but maybe he just didn’t show it, or was afraid his boring head-hunting years wouldn’t be a competition to Hidan’s so far short, but all the more exciting life. So he kept telling him tales, mostly the truth, if a somewhat coloured version of that, and tried to encourage the old man to do the same.  Most of the time he was only rewarded with a noncommittal grunt or a palm over his mouth, silencing him. As the later somehow always led to sex, he didn’t mind it that much.  
  
Now and then, mostly when the patched-up heathen was sated, he became more open and let a few stories slip of his past. Hidan was ridiculously pleased at those times. Even if what he shared was hardly any vital information, it was nice to getting to know him a bit better.  
  
Other than that, it was really just the sex which made it worth all the bother. Sex, and that he had more or less free access to Kakuzu’s body afterwards. He didn’t even try to hide how intrigued he was by the strangeness of the other’s physique or the way his scars and those threads excited him. Kakuzu didn’t seem to mind and usually let him play, just shoved him away if Hidan got really carried away. Like that time his hand _somehow_ ended up inside the other’s chest and his fingers _accidentally_ wove themselves around one of his hearts... The kick he earned for thathad him flying through the cheap room they were spending the night at, but Hidan had no regrets. Kakuzu after all had five of the damned things, it wasn’t as if losing one would do any permanent damage to him.  
  
So were there any other benefits, he pondered. He was, he had to admit, proud to be partner to Kakuzu in more ways than what the Akatsuki intended. He even said something along this line on one of their bloody mind-numbing gatherings. He couldn’t recall his exact words afterwards, as he was kinda daydreaming and they just spilled from his mouth, but the gist of it was how far superior he was to Kakuzu’s previous partners and some remark on the quality and quantity of sex and the lack of it (at least as far as he could tell) for the other members...  
  
Well, it spiced the meeting up like nothing else could, shaking the fucking heathens out of boredom-included coma. At least that was how Hidan spent his time when he was forced to listen to Pein’s monologue about… whatever he was going on about, so he guessed it was the same for everybody. Even weeks after, he still had to grin if he recalled the various expressions, from shocked to disgusted that froze on the others’ faces. Kakuzu didn’t seem to care that their dirty secret was out, as the Jashinist was somewhat afraid he’d be. There were benefits of his stoic attitude after all.   
  
He did shrug his hand off, probably breaking a few bones in it, when Hidan tried to grope him in front of... well pretty much the rest of the organization, but he was expecting that. Other than that he just told him to shut up when at night he made a point to _scream_ when they fucked in their room at the hideout. When Hidan didn’t, he all but gagged him with a bundle of his threads. With his cries mostly muffled it was only the blond git who came banging on their door, demanding them to keep silent. He needed sleep to be able to create his art, indeed. As if he wasn’t loud a lot of times with his explosions. Little freak. Hidan smirked at him next morning. He was probably just jealous ‘cause he was not getting any.  
  
All in all life became more fun. Finally it looked like joining the Akatsuki was worth the nail polish, the itchy cloaks and the boring gatherings. Kakuzu, with all his faults - his greediness for money, his cynical outlook on life that denied anything spiritual, his age that sometimes showed when he spoke or in the way he demanded to be left alone while reading some dusty book - was still the best companion he ever had.  In his rare thoughtful moments he felt grateful for the unknown Shiro for it.  
  


/*/*/*/

  
The Valley of the End looked much the same as it did more than sixty years ago. Moss grew on the statues and they cracked at a few places, but essentially they were unchanged. This was a kind of immortality as well, Kakuzu mused, though if he’d have to choose between having a stone memento or to continue to live in his own, admittedly much changed body, he wouldn’t need to think twice what to prefer.  
  
He glanced at Hidan, who was staring up at the statues with an unimpressed expression. Feeling his gaze, he turned towards him.  
  
“So, who’re the big guys, Kakuzu?”  
  
“The two strongest shinobi of the century.”

“Ehh, are they?”  
  
“You really don’t have a clue, do you?”  
  
“Why the fuck should I?”  
  
“Either the level of education was abysmal in Yugakure or you’re really an idiot,” he sighed. Coming here wasn’t the best of ideas.  
  
“Geez, the way you said it made me feel like I’m dating my own grandfather, Kakuzu...” still he was grinning at him, and the masked man found it just as alluring as irritating. “Just add something like _the youth of today_ and you’ll have the right image.”  
  
“We are certainly not _dating,_ you illiterate little shit. Anyhow, they were the founders of Konoha. That man,” he pointed at the figure of the Hokage “was Hashirama Senju. The other... Madara Uchiha.”

“An Uchiha, eh? Maybe you should have brought Itachi on this little trip, he’d be more ecstatic. Care to tell me _why_ are we here?”  
  
“I thought you wanted to get know my past, idiot.”  
  
“Oh,” he turned his violet eyes back to the statues with much more interest. “So you’ve known them?”  
  
“I can’t say that. But I’ve met them and they have some responsibility in making me who I am.”  
  
Hidan inched closer to him until the back of his hand touched Kakuzu’s. The masked shinobi folded his arms in front of his chest, before the idiot did something audacious, like trying to hold his hand. Hidan was just bound to do something like that, not as much as showing his affection (which Kakuzu wasn’t sure he has any) just to piss him off.  
  
“What does that mean?” the priest asked him curiously, but he didn’t reply for a long while. Bringing his partner here was a decision made on the spur of a moment, but now that they were in the valley he felt disinclined to talk about his past. Still, as they had come this far, he’d have felt it ridiculous to back out now, so he sighed and turned to his partner to answer curtly.  
  
“Senju - he was the first man I met who had real power, something way more serious than what your usual shinobi is capable of. Madara... he taught me the rest I needed to know, to be able to survive. He also, hmm... shaped my body.”  
  
“Huh? What the fuck do you mean by that?” He didn’t quite seem to expect an answer though, as he didn’t pester him for further details when he kept silent. He looked at the stone profile of the late Uchiha in what passed deep in thought for Hidan. “You know,” he said at long last “I’m not sure if I liked the way you said _Madara._ Were you screwing him?”  
  
“You are really an imbecile,” still, he could hardly keep back a laugh as he saw the angry frown on his partner’s face.   
  
“Hey, I just want to get prepared if you’re dragging up another ex-lover from your century-long history. Jashin knows... maybe you’ll lose your memory again and mistake Itachi for him...”  
  
“Hidan. Shut up.”  
  
“So you didn’t fuck him?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Good.”  
  
“And he’s been dead for over sixty years, you know.”  
  
“You have too sharp memory.”  
  
He leaned against him slightly, and Kakuzu let him. Hidan seemed satisfied with the information he’d been given, and for the first time, the masked man felt that bringing him here wasn’t a mistake after all. Seeing the statues again hardly moved anything in him any longer and at least his obnoxious lover wouldn’t try to pry any more “secrets” from him - for a short while at least.  
  
“Say, Kakuzu...”  
  
“Hm? What’s it now?”  
  
“Quite tall statues, aren’t they?”  
  
“Hm,” he agreed.  
  
“Let’s climb them and see if we can piss into the river from the top of their heads.”  
  
He pushed away from the idiot at that and walked away. He wasn’t even surprised at such a suggestion, but he wouldn’t dignify it with an answer. Hidan of course scurried after him, yelling him to come back.  
  
“Ah, come on Kakuzu, it’d be fun! It won’t hurt you if you do something fun once in a while, you fucking sour old man! Oh come on, we can do it from the top of the other guy, it doesn’t need to be _your Madara!_ Kakuzu... hey Kakuzu, don’t play deaf!”

 

**THE END**


End file.
